Mystery Kids: Beginnings - Tumblr Posts

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Opening

This is the first Mystery Kids fanfic I not only wrote, but completed. It went untitled for a very long time, and I'm afraid the name's still not very creative, but it's better than nothing. 

I wish the formatting was a little more like an actual book, but with the text on this theme pretty small it may be easier to leave it at the default for now. Anyway, you probably want a summary. :3

Everything seems great in Gravity Falls. There's always something going on to keep young mystery hunters busy, especially when their nemesis procures a mind-altering mineral and uses it against them. Lucky for them, a young Psychonaut-- the youngest ever, in fact-- is on the case.

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The package was small, about the size of a tissue box and unassuming. It arrived with a plop on the doorstep midmorning, then was promptly squirreled away from prying eyes and hurried to a secluded back room. Stubby fingers pulled the packaging eagerly apart, and a gently shimmering violet glow lit the boy’s pale features. He poured over the substance greedily, its power safely contained in an insulating glass case, picturing what he might do with it now that it was his. There was so much…

Patience, that’s what I need. Play my cards right and everything will be mine without a fuss at all.

 -------- 

“Uh-huh. Uh-huh…. No, I wouldn’t worry about it. No really! You’re dead, you don’t have to worry about it. Oh, alright,” Norman gave a resigned sigh. “I promise we’ll make sure the well hasn’t been poisoned. Can you rest easy now?”

The pioneer ghost he was talking to nodded, looking content as it slowly dissolved into wisps of light and disappeared. That was the third ghost he’d helped this week, some kind of record he supposed. He turned to his two cohorts and grinned, indicating his success.

 “Yeah! Another point for Norman!” Mabel cheered, and her brother laughed.

“What, we’re keeping score? He’s the only one who can play.”

“Yeah yeah,” she said, giggling. “So who was this guy? Some kind of old-timey plumber or something?”

“More like a cowboy. He wanted me to warn everyone the well might be poisoned,” Norman explained as they turned to walk back through town.

“That was really his last wish?” Dipper asked, looking skeptical, and his friend nodded.

“Those kind of things were a lot more important back then,” he replied with a shrug. “If no one knew their water was bad the whole town might die. How was he supposed to know that wouldn’t happen?”

“Hey, if we meet that time-travel guy again we could go back and tell him,” Mabel suggested, and the two boys chuckled.

Norman only knew of most of the twins’ bizarre adventures secondhand of course, the rest having happened in the few days he’d spent in Gravity Falls. Some had been instigated by the ghosts he’d met around town, others from the pages of the weird book Dipper always carried around, and others still simply appeared out of nowhere. They’d taken advantage of one mystery in particular-- he was only out here with the twins now because a paper clone had gone home with his family. The pains of parting with new friends made on a vacation were craftily avoided, and as far as he knew the rest of the Babcocks suspected nothing. If he was brutally honest, his family weren’t the most attentive… and for now that was fine with him. Though he missed Neil, he was with his kind of people for once.

“You think Stan would let us rent another zombie movie tonight?” Mabel wondered aloud, twirling on her heel. She’d been on a horror movie kick ever since Norman had arrived and introduced her to some of his favorites, and the cheesier the better.

“Haven’t we exhausted the video store’s selection already?” Dipper replied, frowning. He refused to admit all but the worst of even the cheesy movies scared him, and Mabel knew all about it. Since the Journal listed zombies, half those films were automatically that much more plausible no matter how terrible the rubber-masked villains and corn syrup blood got. Of course he was tired of them, and wasn’t quite sure how his sister and Norman continued to put up with them. There were only so many ways a zombie’s head could get chopped off before it got old, right? He could already feel his sister’s sly little smirk, and knew some snide comment was incoming.

“What, worried the mondo-mutant from ‘Space Zombies 4’ is gonna come after you again?”

“I realize that was a dream, okay!? A dream!” he spluttered, glaring at his sister, who only chuckled at him. “Look, can’t we just rent like, an action movie? ‘Nebraska Bones’ or something.”

“Aw Dipper, you watch that all the time at home. I wanna see some crazy zombie-mashing action!”

Norman laughed to himself while the twins argued. They’d inevitably get it sorted out, and even though zombie movies were his favorite he didn’t mind the odd action movie either. Back home, Neil liked to watch cute animal movies, and some of those got to be pretty awful too, but as long as he was with friends it wasn‘t so bad. Ultimately it’d be up to the man paying for the movie anyway; as much as Grunkle Stan liked the fact movies kept the kids quiet he loved his money more. It was likely they’d just be playing out their own undead invasion that night.

Home base for the trio soon poked through the dense forest, garish signs every few feet ensuring no tourist could pass the Mystery Shack by. Stan was occupied with giving a tour, so the kids took the back entrance and headed for the living room. They’d ask him about the movie later; for now, whatever was on TV would have to do, and after that a round of videogames. For all its mysteries, if something strange wasn’t happening, Gravity Falls lived up to its ‘sleepy little town’ reputation.

The upshot to this ‘sleepy little town’ was that no one seemed to care that Norman often spoke to nothing. Everyone knew the town had its share of odd characters who also had their charms, and he was simply the latest in such a trend. Blithe Hollow still wasn’t sure what to make of him even after he’d saved it, and plenty of people didn’t want to talk about what had happened that night. Here in Gravity Falls, no one knew anything about it, and that afforded him a certain amount of freedom. Most people didn’t even know his name.

So when an envelope with ‘Norman’ neatly penned on it arrived with the rest of the mail that afternoon, it was definitely strange, and the letter inside it even more perplexing. Cordially written, it requested a private interview with him about his ‘gift’. There was no return address or initials, only a time and place to meet.

He’d think about it more later, but for the moment he stuffed it in his pocket and went back to where the twins were trying to decode one of the Book’s many ciphers. He couldn’t say he was much good at it, but Dipper was certain between the three of them they could figure it out. They didn’t have the key though, and without that vital part it was unlikely they’d crack it no matter how many minds were on the case. It wasn’t one of Trembley’s ‘silliness puzzles’ either, so that pretty much ruled out anything Mabel had to say too. Eventually even Dipper had to admit defeat.

It was times like these when the three tended to separate. Not because they were mad at one another or anything, but even twins needed time apart, and though he wasn’t quite so introverted anymore Norman still liked being able to hear himself think. With the Mystery Shack closed for the evening, things were especially peaceful, and wandering outside where the air was still and light slanted through the trees was refreshing. He knew to keep close to the Shack; besides the numerous mystical threats of the forest there were also more natural things like bears and cougars to worry about. No, he was content to sit on the steps or listen to the parking lot gravel crunch under his shoes. Sitting on one of the logs that served as a curb, a crinkling from his pocket reminded him of the letter, and he pulled it out to read it again.

“Whatcha got there?” Mabel said next to Norman’s ear, and he nearly fell from his seat. For all her loud tendencies, she had the strange ability to sneak up on people. “A secret admirer maybe?” She fluttered her eyelids, then giggled.

“No,” Norman replied with a laugh, “well, maybe. Someone wants to interview me.” He handed the paper over, and she sniffed.

“Smells like… hairspray? Maybe it is a secret admirer. Jealous!”

“…Weird.” He’d never had a secret admirer before, and wasn’t sure how to feel about it. According to all his movies, having a stalker meant eminent death.

“That date says tonight right? You should totally go! I’ll follow along, but all secrety-like. Come on!”

“Wait, Mabel…”

But there was no discouraging her, and he found himself being pushed down the road towards town. About a block before the destination-- in front of Greasy’s Diner-- Mabel made him walk by himself, trailing him and actually doing a good job of keeping out of sight. From what he could see though, there was no one waiting out front, and he felt relieved. But then a car-- large, dark and intimidating-- pulled up beside him, and the back window rolled down. These things never ended well.

“Norman?” A high-pitched, Southern drawl-inflected voice inquired, and a small boy’s face topped with an enormous platinum-blonde pompadour appeared over the window frame.

“Uh… yeah?” he replied, hands fidgeting.

“Why, pleased to make your acquaintance at last. Hop in, and we’ll head somewhere away from pryin’ eyes. My trailer should fit the bill.”

“Uh… I’m not so sure. I’ve gotta be home soon,” Norman said, edging back in Mabel’s direction. Everyone knew you didn’t get into a stranger’s car, even if the person inviting you seemed innocent enough.

“No no, come now, I insist!”

The door snapped shut, and Norman found himself inside, not really sure what had just happened. He twisted to look behind as the car pulled away and saw a worried-looking Mabel waving frantically at him before the well-dressed boy sitting next to him cleared his throat and began to speak.

“Now I know this ain’t the typical way to meet someone, but I’ve heard so much about you, well, I couldn’t resist a bit of mystery, if you know what I mean. I’m somethin’ of a showman y’see, and was wonderin’ if you’d be so kind as to make an appearance in my program. I think you’ll find we’ve got a bit in common, and it’d be such a delight to have you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about our psychic gifts of course! Why, with my premonitions and your clairvoyance, it’d be quite a treat for my fans. Think you could do it tonight?”

“Uh…” He was at a loss for words. The car pulled up to a trailer-- not the mobile home he’d expected, but an actual trailer like the ones for movie stars. “Are you… famous?”

“Only locally, but yes.”

They exited the car, which drove off for the time being, and headed into the trailer. The interior was cheerfully lit, lined with all manner of outfits and smelled strongly of hair products. The boy took his seat in front of the mirrors, and indicated a folding chair for Norman.

“Who are you, anyway?” he asked as he sat, and his host gasped.

“My my, did I really not introduce myself? Child psychic and town darlin’ Gideon Gleeful at your service! Now, can I get you anything, a water maybe?”

Norman shook his head. The Pines had named a Gideon in the list of things they’d had to fight, and the town was too small for two people to be called such an unusual name. Something wasn’t right, but he wasn’t allowed to dwell on it, as the chubby kid was determined to talk.

“Down to business then. We’ll get you suited up, then y’just have to talk for ten minutes maybe. Nothin’ fancy, just a few questions about your gift and such. Then questions from the audience, then it’s a wrap and we head home. Now I can see that you’re nervous, but it’s really nothing at all, and I’ll be doin’ most of the talkin’. You just sit an’ look pretty for the camera.”

“I… I’d love to, but uh… I’ve got to get home ‘cause my friends are gonna be really worried…” Norman stuttered, rising from his chair and making for the door. He didn’t mind being on a stage so much, even if the last time he had had ended more or less disastrously, but he got the sense this was something more sinister than a school play.

“Not to worry friend, they know about the whole thing! Now, come on back. You’ve got a show to get ready for.”

Norman found himself walking back to the chair. He didn’t want to, but at the same time it seemed like such a good idea. Gideon snapped his fingers, and a pretty little stylist entered.

“My special guest here needs a suit and somethin’ done about his hair. See what you can do, hon.”

She nodded, sized Norman up, then left the trailer. Gideon tended to his own hair, leaving his guest to look nervously about the room. Maybe he should plan an escape? Surely he’d have a chance to get out between now and the show. Maybe. The plots of most horror movies suggested otherwise.

The stylist came back with a small black suit draped over her arm, and Gideon tutted.

 “Don’cha have anything in color?” The stylist shook her head timidly, but the self-proclaimed psychic shrugged. “Shame. Anyway, try that on for size Norman.” He indicated the bathroom and waved him in. Reluctantly he obliged, and while the suit fit fine, taming his hair was another story altogether. Eventually the stylist reached her breaking point and simply fled the trailer.

--------

“Dipper! Dipper!”

The door to their room practically exploded under Mabel’s charge, and the Journal fell from his hands in shock.

“What!? What’s happening?”

“Norman got kidnapped!”

“What!?”

               “I dunno! I was watching him and he tried to get away, but then it was like he changed his mind and got in the car anyway! What are we gonna do?!”

“Wait, why were you following him? Where did this happen?”

“He got a letter, and I thought maybe it was a secret admirer or something romantic, so I-- oh man, this is all my fault!” she cried, falling to her knees, and Dipper put a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry Mabel, we can figure this out. Did you see who was in the car?”

“Hey kids! Get down here, yer buddy‘s on TV!” Stan shouted from below, and the pair rushed down, almost skidding into the room.

“I was just flippin’ through channels and stumbled on him. What’s he doin’ on Gideon’s show anyway? You guys warned him about the little creep, right?”

"Not well enough, apparently…” Dipper sighed, sitting dejectedly on the carpet. “Better see what he’s up to.”

“Tell us more about this curse you helped take care of,” Gideon was saying, leaning forward in a cushy-looking chair. “What’s all this about a witch now?”

“Well…” Norman looked uncomfortable on the stage, even though he had an equally cushy-looking chair. It was probably blazing under those lights, not to mention he’d been put on the spot. Nevertheless, in his own halting way he explained the whole story as quickly as he could.

“Fascinatin’, absolutely fascinatin’! Sounds terrifying too, but you triumphed in the end an’ that’s the main thing, am I right?” Gideon pronounced, and Norman smiled nervously while the crowd applauded. After that, they took questions from the audience, and then the show was over, Gideon waving to the camera charmingly with an awkwardly bemused Norman at his side as the credits rolled. The Pines sat in what approached a grim silence. Stan stormed from the room, and the twins glanced at one another. Their great-uncle returned fully dressed and scowling, grabbed his cane and opened the door.

“Come on kids, I’m not letting that little freak steal your friend for his sideshow. Hurry up!”

The two were out the door and in Stan’s car in a flash. Stan hadn’t exactly been thrilled when he learned there was suddenly another kid in his care, but at least this one’d turned out to be pretty low-maintenance. And if there was one thing Dipper knew their great-uncle definitely wouldn’t stand for, it was his business rival getting an advantage by using a family friend against him. The ancient vehhicle’s engine roared to life, and they were off.

People were still filing out of the Tent of Telepathy when the Pines family pulled in haphazardly and all three stormed in, Stan leading the way. Things were being wrapped up, and the Gleefuls’ employees stared as they marched down the center aisle. Bud Gleeful was packing up the electric organ, and despite their rivalry was always welcoming whenever Stan came to confront him over some wrong.

“Well, if it isn’t th’ whole Pines gang. What can I help y’all with this fine evening?” he drawled cheerfully, greeting them with palms spread warmly.

“Look, we only came here to pick up Norman. Hand ‘im over and we’ll leave without a fuss,” Stan growled, crossing his arms, and Bud held up his hands defensively.

“I’d love to help, but he and Gideon headed home for some dinner. You’ll just have t’ head there if y’ need ‘im back so soon.”

“Fine. But I’ll have you know we’re onto you!” Stan retorted, glaring at the large Southerner as he turned to leave the tent, twins in tow looking equally skeptical. They clambered back into the car and headed across town, and the siblings exchanged worried glances. Their new best friend was in the clutches of an insane ten-year-old who seemed to have access to the same supernatural forces they did. This was a recipe for disaster if there ever was one.

The Gleefuls’ sprawling ranch house loomed into view, the giant billboard advertising Gideon illuminated in their headlights. It seemed to leer mockingly down at them, and Stan growled in disgust. It was time to put an end to this farce. Once more they marched up to their rival’s establishment, and Stan pounded on the door rather than ring the doorbell. He tapped his foot impatiently before knocking again, and this time the door swung open. It was Gideon.

“Give us our friend back!” Mabel demanded, stepping forward and poking him hard in the chest before he could say a word.

“Why Mabel, always a pleasure to see you,” he countered, rubbing where she had more or less stabbed him with her finger. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“You can‘t fool us! We saw you on TV with Norman tonight!” It was Dipper’s turn to yell angrily at their rival, who merely chuckled innocently.

“Oh yes, he did stop by didn't he? Charming fellow, bit quiet though. I already sent him home, he should be there by now. You’re wastin’ your time talking to lil’ ole me.” His smug expression wasn’t exactly reassuring.

Dipper passed a worried look to his sister. The Pines were left with no choice but to leave their enemy and head home. They knew he couldn’t be trusted; would Norman really be waiting for them at the Shack? Had they just been bamboozled? Stan would never stand for that, he was the resident con man. They sat in the car, uncomfortably silent.

“Gideon seemed awfully convincing again…” Mabel finally groaned, fiddling with her hair, and her brother sighed.

“Yeah. Something’s up… wait, Mabel!”

She looked up to see her brother was agape.

“I knew there was something different about him when we saw him on TV, but seeing him just now-- he’s got another amulet!”

“Ugh, and I could have grabbed it when I poked him! Today’s just not our day.”

“Yeah… if he had it though, why didn't he do anything to us when we showed up at his doorstep? I would've, if I were evil. All my enemies in one place? Too easy,” he reasoned, scratching his head. “He’s up to something.”

“And it has to do with Norman.”

 “Well, looks like you’ll get to find out for yourselves; believe it or not Gideon was telling the truth. He’s right there on the steps,” Stan interjected. Sure enough their friend was waving to them as they pulled in, looking almost as relieved as they felt. Mabel barely let the car stop before she tackled him in a bear hug and left him gasping for air under her grip. Stan unlocked the door, and the three kids trudged gratefully inside, glad the day was over.

“He wanted me to keep the suit,” Norman said, tossing the thing over the back of a chair in the kitchen.

“It is pretty nice…” Mabel chuckled.

“Yeah, but… Gideon,” Dipper replied, grimacing, and she shrugged.

There was a lot more to talk about, but it was much too late for that now. Norman especially seemed tired from his live TV appearance, so the three picked up anything they’d left out and headed up to bed. After a good night’s rest they could begin unraveling their nemesis’ plan. At least that would be more rewarding than trying to crack the Journal’s codes, and probably more fun too.

But no one slept well at all.

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 2

Here's part two~ Happy reading!

“I saved the world at least two times already, and this is the next mission they give me?”

“I know you’re disappointed darling, but every budding Psychonaut gets sent one of these. Sometimes, even Sasha and I get one when no one else is available,” Milla Vodello lilted in her warm Brazilian accent, and her stoic German companion nodded curtly.

“A simple retrieval mission should be short work for you, Razputin. The location isn’t far from here; it should take you a few days at most. Then you’ll be able to move on to more… intriguing proposals,” Sasha Nein added, handing over the mission file.

“Isn’t there something else I could do? A secret psychic mafia plot maybe, or saving a world leader’s sanity. Anything?”

 “…No,” Sasha replied with a frown, and the small psychic’s shoulders fell.

“Sorry dear, but I know you’ll do a fine job. Now go on, we can’t let that stuff stay in the wrong hands for too long. We’ll keep in touch if you need anything.”

“Yeah yeah…” Razputin sighed, flipping through the file as he headed out to the parking lot. A vivid orange globe of energy sprung up under his feet, and he was off, rolling along. There were certain disadvantages to being the youngest Psychonaut ever, number one being you still weren’t allowed to drive anywhere, or fly the official jet yourself, leaving travel by levitation ball the only option. At least his family’s nomadic circus life had left him with a good sense of direction. It might take him a day or so, but he’d have no trouble reaching the locale from Whispering Rock. Time to see what this retrieval mission was all about.

 --------

“Whoa dude, you look beat. Everything okay?” Soos looked worried, and Dipper groaned.

“Mabel had insomnia, Norman got bad dreams, and I've got a splitting headache,” he replied from where he was draped over the counter in the gift shop, a bag of ice on his forehead.

“Yikes, sorry,” the handyman lowered his voice, going back to his sweeping but trying to do it more gently. “You guys didn’t have some kinda crazy zombie party, did you? Or maybe it‘s some kinda curse.”

“Maybe…” Dipper trailed. The Journal didn’t have much about curses, and reading made the headache worse anyway. If Gideon’s plan had been to give them all sleep disorders, well, it had worked, but that seemed a bit… weak for their enemy’s tastes. It had more or less incapacitated them though, so if that was his real aim… then they were probably in for even more trouble soon. Wincing, he peeled himself from the countertop and headed upstairs, pressing the ice pack to his head. Even if he couldn’t read right now, there were two people who could do it for him. He’d read the mysterious tome front to back, nearly had the contents memorized, but there was a chance he’d missed something, anything that might get this migraine to go away. Then he’d be able to think, and help the others.

Trudging upstairs, he found Norman distracting himself with one of his ghost story collections, and Mabel lay flat on her bed knitting. Presumably she’d been trying to sleep and gave up. She stopped and sat up as her brother approached and pulled the Journal from under his pillow.

“Any better?” she asked wearily, and he shook his head, then winced. That had been a bad idea.

“I was hoping someone could look up anything about curses in here. Soos thought maybe that’s what’s up.”

“But you know it the best,” she countered, “and my eyes have been going all weird. Look how many stitches I dropped!” She held up her needles with what looked like a slowly tapering scarf. “It’s not supposed to do that,” she moaned, “but I’ve gotta keep my mind off how badly I wanna sleep.”

“And I want to do something about that, but I can’t with this crazy headache,” Dipper answered tersely, then felt the book pulled from his hand and spun to see Norman with his nose already buried in it. “Whoa, thanks, but… what’s with the enthusiasm?”

“You need to ask?” he snapped, harsher than usual, but Dipper figured he had a good reason to be ill-tempered today. No one could be expected to be in a good mood after sleeping poorly.

Aside from the sound of pages turning and the clicking of knitting needles, the room was silent, which was a relief for Dipper. He was almost able to ignore the headache now, and slowly he tried piecing events together as he lay on his bed. Everyone had sleepless nights sometimes, but that it had affected them at the same time was suspicious, especially after crossing with a known enemy. Stan had seemed perfectly chipper at breakfast this morning, so somehow he hadn’t been affected by whatever Gideon had done. And it seemed odd that if it was a curse that it had such different effects on each of them, unless of course that was the point. He couldn’t be too sure about that.

A sharp pang interrupted his thoughts, and he realized his ice had melted already. Dragging himself up, he noticed Norman staring into space. He did that sometimes, but usually only if there was a ghost present, and he’d explained there were only a couple animal ghosts at the Mystery Shack, and none in the attic where they slept. So what was he doing?

“Norman?”

He flinched like the name had hit him, then rapidly blinked and rubbed his eyes before apologizing. Dipper shrugged and headed down for his ice refill, wondering what could be up. It’d only be the latest in a long line of things. At least when he came back his friend was reading again, and the ice felt really good against his throbbing skull. Soos visited late that afternoon with popsicles for the three, a welcome distraction from their problems, and relayed that it’d been a pretty slow day at the Shack and he was headed home early, but wanted to check on them before he left. Mabel gave him the ‘insomnia scarf’ as a thank you since he thought it was actually kind of cool, then they bid him farewell for the evening.

All too soon another restless night fell, with only Dipper managing a few snatches of shuteye. For the other two, there was no escaping their afflictions. Mabel snuggled with Waddles and worked on a new sweater to pass the time. Norman lay in a daze between visions, unable to avoid them anymore. He was dragged underground by the living dead, surrounded by taunting classmates, set alight by fearful puritans— an endless procession of horrors only he could see. He was managing to keep it together, but wasn’t sure it’d last. His only hope was that Dipper would feel better soon and be able to figure out what had gone wrong. Trying to keep his mind off the visual static that danced at the edges of his vision, he ran over the previous day’s events again and again, looking for anything he could have missed. Things had definitely gotten weird as soon as Gideon had wanted to talk to him, but there had to be more right? He’d gone into the trailer, put up with the kid’s fashion sense and then—he’d gone on stage. But why did he remember turquoise and dread too?

When the room’s shadows morphed into leering sinister creatures, he knew he wouldn’t be getting his answer—or sleep.

Morning light stole into the attic room at last and came to rest on three exhausted kids. Dipper sat taking stock as he massaged his temples; Mabel appeared to have finally passed out while Norman sat curled in a corner, unresponsive. He himself was still plagued by his headache, but it was now coupled with the sense of being watched-- which normally only accompanied him in the forest. Groaning, he grabbed the leaking ice pack and headed downstairs to fill it again, feeling unwelcome in his own, if only for the summer, home. Stan wasn’t up yet, and only the birds made much noise… he felt like he was trespassing. As quietly as he could, he got the ice and hurriedly tiptoed back upstairs, glad it still helped with the pain. Glancing blearily at the others, he knew it’d up to him to do any mystery-solving today.

Using some of Mabel’s yarn, he tied the ice pack to the bill of his hat and got to work, writing out a timeline of events and anything that seemed unusual. He dozed off from time to time, either a jolt of pain or some shadow of a dream bringing him around again. Hours passed, and he heard Stan moving around downstairs making a coffee, and the crinkle of the morning paper. And whispering… no, just the wind. He was tired that was all, tired and hearing things. Maybe breakfast would help.

“Yikes, you look like you lost a fight. No sleep again, huh?” Stan commented when he entered the kitchen, and he nodded. Stan looked worried for a moment, then went back to his paper. “Uh, I gotta run some errands today. Soos’ll take care of the Shack if you kids are really that out of it.”

“Thanks… I don’t think we’ll be doing anything today. Mabel’s out cold, and Norman… I think he’s petrified or something.”

“Hey, could be a new thing for the Shack-- ‘Fossilized Ghost Whisperer Boy’, hah!”

Dipper ignored his great-uncle’s remark and focused on his cereal. He was more concerned about what he was missing, just like the key to one of the ciphers. And that’s all this was, another mystery thrown at him. Well, he’d solve it, and prove to Gideon there was nothing he could do to bring him down. Finishing his meal, he headed back up determined to find out the truth. Stan finished his paper and headed out, leaving the Shack to the kids until Soos arrived.

Mabel woke with a start. Waddles was gone, her brother’s bed was empty, and she didn’t see Norman. But she knew where each of them was— Dipper was coming up the stairs still rocking that headache, Waddles had made his way outside and was happily rooting around in the grass, and Norman was… hiding, in the corner. She furrowed her brow; she didn’t feel tired anymore at least, and even though she’d always been a people person, she never recalled being able to pinpoint where someone was and how they were feeling.

“Oh Mabel, you’re awake, good. Listen, I—”

“Someone’s at the door,” she interrupted, and the doorbell rang. Dipper stared at her, then they both headed down to investigate. She wanted her hunch to be wrong, but it came as no surprise when the door swung open to reveal Gideon inspecting his nails as though he’d been kept waiting. She glared at him as he pretended to notice the door was finally open, and then feigned shock at their worn appearance.

“Why, y’all look like you haven’t slept in days. And Dipper, that’s an intriguing device you’ve rigged there. Tell me, does it help with your insanity?”

“Whatever you tried Gideon, it didn’t work! You just gave me a bad headache.”

“Aw, look how confident he is,” Gideon cooed, before his expression turned sour. “Listen here you two. Things are going exactly as planned, and soon there won’t be anything you can do to stop me. I’m taking everything-- your minds, your friend, the Shack, and all its secrets. I was just stoppin’ by to see how it was all comin’ along.” He looked them over again, arms folded, and gave a satisfied nod before sauntering off. Mabel raised a fist, but found her brother’s arm barring her and lowered it. He was right; there was no need to cause more trouble, and there were better people to use a punch on.

“Now we know this is his fault,” Dipper said once he‘d gone. “What did he mean, our minds? He can’t make us work for him, he doesn’t have that kind of power. Ugh, now I have to write more things down. And how did you know he was at the door?”

“I just sorta knew,” Mabel shrugged. “It wasn’t just him either, I knew where you and Waddles were, and Norman, and even what you guys were feeling.”

“Whoa, like you were the one with psychic powers. Hey, how am I feeling now?”

“I dunno, I can’t do it anymore,” she shrugged again, and he thought for a while.

“Something Gideon did messed with all our heads, but I don’t think he meant to give you powers. Maybe that means he really doesn’t have control of whatever he’s doing, which means we have a chance. Come on!”

They ran upstairs, and she watched her brother sort through his data and remove all the stuff that relied on Gideon having total control. It wasn’t much, and she knew she wasn’t one for this conspiracy-level thinking, but if their rival had just unwittingly given his whole game away her brother would be the one to figure it out, and she’d be there to help. Together, they laid things out, starting with Norman’s letter and running through everything up to their latest exchange with their rival. Norman could have been hexed at any time he was with Gideon, but that didn’t account for why the twins were suffering and Stan wasn’t. Dipper put that in the ’suspicious’ pile. The amulet was back; that too went into the ’suspicious’ pile. Making Norman take the suit home… also strange, added to the pile. That Gideon was determined to destroy their minds rather than just physically remove them from the Shack with the amulet? Scary.

“Well, the only thing we can investigate right away is that suit, though I can’t see what might be so weird about it,” Dipper sighed, sorting through the slips of paper listing each oddity. “Still, worth a shot, I guess.”

She nodded and hopped up to fetch it. The thing had been hung up in the closet, out of sight and hence out of mind, especially once more pressing matters arose. Tearing it from the hanger, she tossed it on the floor between their beds, and something made a clunking sound. They glanced at each other, then patted through the fabric until Dipper’s hand fell on a hard object tucked into a pocket. Reaching in, he withdrew a rock about the size of his fist, violently purple and glittering in his hand. He looked at it for a moment, then handed it over for her to see. Turning it over in her hands, she admired the color and how it glowed all by itself. It was such a pretty rock, but there was more to it than looks; she felt that sense of extreme empathy coming back, could feel how bad her brother’s migraine was, and… something worse.

Dipper took the rock back when he noticed concern spread on his sister’s face and looked closely at the heavy mineral. Pain jagged through his skull, and for a moment his vision blacked out. He was floating in a void, he was sure of it, but somehow it wasn’t a scary sort of void. There was something here, something important… something good to know. Could he find out what it was?

A flash of red and green. The word ‘goggles’.

Then it was back to pain, and Mabel placed a steadying hand on his shoulder while the stone clattered to the floor. Grabbing the nearest container he saw, Dipper took the rock and stuffed it in one of the jars of fake eyes Stan kept around and jammed the lid back on as fast as he could. Amazingly, his headache seemed to lessen right away, and he sighed with relief. So that’s what Gideon had done-- planted this thing on Norman without him knowing, or maybe hypnotizing him to forget about it, who knew-- and let whatever it was seep into their room. No wonder Stan hadn’t been affected, he was probably out of range. And the person who’d been in contact with it the most…

“Dipper… Norman’s not doing so good,” Mabel said timidly, interrupting her brother’s thoughts.

“Can you feel what’s going on like you did earlier?” Dipper asked quietly, but she shook her head.

“Once you put that rock stuff in the jar I couldn't feel anything.”

“Huh. Okay, uh… but what about before that though?”

“Before that, um,” she trailed nervously, poking her fingers together. “It was kind of a big blob of blech. I… I don’t think he’s really… um… with us anymore,” she explained, and her brother sighed.

“Yikes. Well, only thing we can do is talk to him, right? Find out what’s up…”

“Uh-huh,” she agreed, and together they stood and slowly approached their troubled friend. They exchanged concerned looks, then Dipper began.

“Wanna… come out of your corner there Norman?” he said cautiously, and again his friend flinched.

“…Go away…”

“We’re not going anywhere until you’re better. That’s what friends do,” Mabel answered as cheerfully as she could.

“…Don’t have any friends… better off alone…” he muttered, almost to himself, and the twins looked to each other.

“That’s not true, you've got-- a ton of friends, yeah! There’s me, and Dipper, and that one kid you talked about back home, and Soos, not to mention the ghosts you talk to like, all the time! Yeah!” Mabel laughed nervously, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. The tone of his voice was the most unsettling thing, and she realized she was afraid-- though whether it was for or because of Norman she couldn’t tell. Which only made her all the more worried.

“…Leave me alone…”

“And… if we don’t leave you alone?” Dipper asked, and she elbowed him in the side for being insensitive. He caught her frantic glare before movement got their attention. Norman was standing, staggering to his feet like one of the zombies from his movies, but there was something even more troubling-- static flickered through his hair and across his clothes.

“Then… I’ll make you…”

Dipper gasped as he realized his friend’s intent and grabbed his sister’s wrist; together, the twins barely dodged the lightning that sizzled over their heads and ducked for the door, shutting it behind them and panting. Mabel wrapped her arms around him, and he realized she was shaking; he was speechless himself, so he only returned the reassuring hug for the time being. He wasn’t even sure how to feel at the moment, but one thing was blindingly clear: Gideon was going to pay.

“Come on Mabel, I don’t think we can help him right now,” he said quietly, standing and heading down the stairs. Mabel took a sad glance back at the door before following, hoping her brother had a plan. Adjusting his cap, he remembered the ice pack and took it off now that his headache was largely gone, then marched out the door, sister close behind wondering just what was on his mind. She had a pretty good guess though, since it was likely she was thinking the same thing.

Hopefully not literally, but the Pines were out for blood.

--------

Razputin, or more simply ‘Raz’ as he preferred, had just arrived in town and could already sense things were amiss. That run-down looking tourist trap he’d passed on the way in was definitely giving off some weird vibes, but he’d investigate later-- now there was a dwarf in a powder-blue suit trying to get his attention down the street. Come to think of it, he had heard this area was known for strange occurrences and sightings. He just hadn’t expected to run into so much so soon.

Rolling closer, he saw it was actually just a well-dressed kid flagging him down, and figured he wanted his autograph or something, or maybe he’d never seen a psychic before. It might be good to make friends with the locals anyway; they’d be able to guide him around town during his investigation—at least, that’s what the agents in True Psychic Tales always did. He let the ball of energy under his feet evaporate and walked over to find out just what this kid wanted.

“Can I help you?”

“I believe you can, yes,” the child replied in a charming drawl, “as a fellow psychic, I could use a friend. Walk with me an’ I’ll tell ya all about it.”

Raz was a little surprised at his claims of being a psychic—again, he hadn't expected strange stuff to happen so soon—but he felt an immediate fellowship as he listened eagerly to his plight. The kid explained how he’d been mocked and derided as a fraud ever since he’d come to town, and now two  other kids had taken something of his and hidden it in that tourist trap he’d passed earlier, the Mystery Shack. Raz was obviously more powerful than him, since he couldn’t even levitate like he did, and he could use someone to back him up when he went to get his stuff.

“Then those fools won’t know what hit ‘em,” he chuckled, and something in his tone made Raz uneasy. Still, this kid could be useful for his mission, and those bad vibes from earlier might be related to too—no sense in ruling it out prematurely, especially with the nature of what he was supposed to be recovering. And on top of all that, he knew all too well about being mocked for who you were. So he didn’t see much harm in following him for now, and maybe he’d lead him straight to what he needed anyway. Two birds with one stone and all that.

The Shack loomed into view, and the sign on the window read “Closed” even though business hours should have started at ten that morning, almost four hours ago. It looked like no one was home, and Raz watched uneasily as the shorter kid forced the door to the gift shop open with his telekinesis and walked right in. Even if he only had telekinesis, couldn’t he defend himself? Something didn’t add up, and he got the feeling he only knew part of the story, or perhaps not even that as he followed the kid further into the house-turned-museum. It smelled like dust and mildewed taxidermy, and the décor was stuck in the 70s, but that was of no concern to the suited kid who searched the common areas furiously before heading upstairs. Raz felt maybe he’d been coerced into a robbery, was the brawn to this kid’s brains, but there was still that sense there was more going on than he realized. Well, he wasn’t about to let it stay that way.

“Okay, what are we really doing here?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as they climbed the stairs to the attic, and the boy chuckled.

“Why, didn't I tell you? There’s somethin’ here that’s rightfully mine, an’ I’m just retrievin’ it,” he replied, opening the door at the top and peeking in.

“I thought you said it was yours. That seems different from ‘rightfully’ yours.”

“Silence!”the kid shrieked, all semblance of amicability gone, and Raz felt himself hurled into the room ahead, tumbling against the foot of a bed. Rubbing the back of his aching head with a groan, he quickly realized there was someone home after all. Getting cautiously to his feet, he saw his ‘friend’ peering around the door and telekinetically shut it on him, then set a heavy-looking travel trunk against it. He needed to figure out what was going on here, and he had a feeling the other person curled in the corner was part of it.

If anything, he was at least the source of the bad aura that filled the house. There was no mistaking it—confusion, fear, anger, sadness—a roiling slew of negative emotions with no mental walls left to contain them. Raz still wasn’t the most experienced, but he knew this couldn’t be natural. Unblocking the door, he snatched his ‘friend’ up with a projected hand and brought him in, certain he had something to do with this other kid’s… affliction.

“What the hell is going on here? Explain yourself, or I’ll…” he thought for a moment, “I’ll light your hair on fire!”

“No! I mean, what makes you think I have anything t’ do with Norman over here?”

Raz raised an eyebrow. “You know his name.”

“So I do… He’s—he’s just another psychic, he’s been havin’ some real bad visions lately, an’ I was just—”

Raz picked up a scrap of blank paper from the floor and set it alight, letting the ashes drift in front of the kid’s face before continuing to glare at him. He seemed shaken, but then he reached to his tie and a burst of blue energy tore through Raz’s projection. Raz shook out his hand—his real one—he’d felt the attack in it, and swore under his breath as the chubby kid fled downstairs and out of range. He’d deal with that weirdo later; for now, he couldn’t let this Norman kid stay like he was. But there were rules against projecting into other kids’ heads, laws to keep unscrupulous individuals from corrupting the innocent. He had to contact HQ.

Sitting down, he pulled his red-lensed goggles over his eyes and focused inward. He was a natural telepath, but long distances were still hard and it was easy to pick up on the wrong person’s brainwaves, especially with emotional chaos in the room. Slowly he managed to tune it out, and the person he sought became clearer, feeling closer with every second until their minds touched.

“Razputin, I was not expecting you. Is something wrong?” Sasha Nein’s voice echoed through his head, and he got the sense he’d interrupted an important experiment.

“Sorry for bothering you, but I’ve got a problem,” he quickly replied, “I think it might have something to do with the mission too, but there’s a kid here who could really use my help. As in mental projection help. Really bad.”

“Troubling, but you know the rules,” came the clipped reply.

“I know, but—just feel this for a moment,” Raz answered, then let some of the chaos flow through him, using his natural telepathy talents to their full extent. Sasha, who was all for emotional control seemed stunned; Raz could almost feel him taking a moment to reorganize his mind. “We can’t just leave him like that, right Sasha?”

“That is drastic, and from a child… Razputin, I am going to consult with Agents Vodello and Cruller. In the meantime, keep this child safe and free from over-stimulation. See if there’s anything in the environment that could be contributing to his psychosis and eliminate it. I’ll contact you when I have more information.”

“Got it. Thanks Sasha,” he said, and felt the stoic psychic’s presence fade. Removing the goggles, he stood once more and looked sadly over at his newly-acquired ward, wondering what could have sent him over the edge. Maybe that other psychic kid had done something, but most kids weren’t that skilled with their powers to manipulate someone into a breakdown like this. The room probably held clues. As discreetly as he could, he began looking around. The first thing he noticed was there were definitely supposed to be three people here—Norman had a sleeping bag, and both the beds looked recently used. One bed was covered in scraps of paper, some organized into a timeline, and put Raz in mind of a certain conspiracy theorist he once knew, while the other had posters of teen stars and stuffed animals around it, suggesting a girl lived here too. Between the beds, there was a weird jar of eyes along with a crumpled suit on the floor. Now that was strange. Glancing over at Norman to make sure he was alright, he walked quietly over to the jar and opened it.

A familiar purple glow greeted him, and his jaw fell. Well, that would explain the psychosis. He quickly snapped the lid back on and stowed the jar in the bag he wore slung across his back, hoping it wouldn’t be missed considering it was up in the attic. At least someone had figured out glass could dampen psitanium’s psychoactive effects, and he was positive now: his mission, the other psychic, and Norman were all connected. The address he was supposed to go to could even be that kid’s house—all the more reason to get over there. If that kid was the one who’d bought a stolen psitanium meteorite on the black market, then there was more where this small chunk came from. But now there was the quandary of leaving to take care of the stolen meteorite, or staying and making sure Norman didn’t hurt anyone—or himself.

“Razputin,” Sasha’s voice was suddenly in his head again, and he focused on his mentor’s presence once more.

“Have you found anything else? The others want more information before we make a decision.”

“Oh man have I learned some stuff. Sasha, someone planted psitanium in here, and I think there might be other kids in trouble now too.”

“Disturbing...” his mentor replied, with enough inflection to show he really was unsettled. “Okay, Cruller trusts you to make the right decisions. I must warn you though, a child’s mind is still forming, and there are consequences if you do too much. Only touch what you absolutely must. Understand?”

 “Yes. How do I get in? Can I just use the psycho-portal?”

“No. That device’s safeguards can’t be altered. You’ll have to go in the old-fashioned way and bypass his natural defenses. It may be useful to try getting his permission first if you can get through to him, but be careful. He may not… react positively.”

“I’m rooting for you dear!” Milla cheered, suddenly in his head too. “We’ll all be in contact if you need help. Now go, save those poor children’s minds!”

“You got it!” Raz replied confidently, and the two agents left him to his work. Carefully, he approached the boy, trying to appear as disarming as he could and not sure it would work. It was hard to focus with so much negative energy in the room, but he had to make an attempt.

“Hey there…” he began. Norman glanced up, and he noticed how utterly done with life he looked.

“Go away.”

“No, listen. I can help you. I’m a psychic, I can go into other people’s heads and sort their mental problems out. I want to do that for you, but you have to let me in,” Raz explained, sitting so he didn’t seem so threatening by talking down at him. Norman narrowed his eyes and seemed to be thinking about what he’d said. The roil of emotions seemed to die for a moment as well, which was a good sign; a rational person was still in there somewhere.

“You’re not… making fun of me are you?”

“Why would I do that?”

“…I’m a freak… everyone knows that…”

“You seem pretty normal to me. I’m a psychic, remember? If anyone would be considered a freak… well, it’d be me,” Raz sighed. And he was born in a circus. He knew plenty of weird people, and Norman wasn’t one of them.

“Do you… talk to ghosts too?” Norman looked up again, something like hope in his voice, but Raz didn’t even know of anyone who talked to ghosts. He knew people who talked to squirrels, birds, fish, even plants—but not ghosts.

“Uh… no. But I think that makes you really cool!” he said quickly, and Norman looked conflicted.

“No one thinks I’m cool… I’m just a freak…” he muttered, putting his face back in his arms, and Raz felt he was losing him.

“I’ll prove that’s not true. Let me go inside your head, and then we’ll show everyone who thinks you’re weird they’re wrong. Deal?”

“Does it… hurt?”

“Nope! In fact, you won’t notice I’m here at all, and you’re gonna feel even better when I‘m done,” he said with a smile, and Norman seemed to think again, shutting his eyes.

“Okay…”

“Awesome. Just try to relax, and I’ll have you back to your old self in no time,” Raz grinned, pulling the goggles on once more, a trick to keep himself focused while in someone else’s psyche. After a moment of concentration, he felt his body seem to drift away, and made for the other mind he sensed in the room, coming against its walls and slipping through like they were nothing. He got the feeling they were only like that because someone had smashed them down ahead of him, but there was no time to dwell on that. A small clearing was melting into view, surrounded by tall, straight, black-barked trees under a yellow-green sky. The ground was dry and cracked, and worn tombstones stuck out at odd angles, their inscriptions only half-legible. Raz could already tell this was going to be interesting.

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 3

Here's the next part! It's a little short compared to some of the others, but hopefully it's a good read regardless.

(Also as the author I'm not so good at this, but if any of you need or can think of some trigger warnings I should tag this as that would be extremely helpful! Thank you!)

Gideon was trying to keep a level head. That psychic kid had turned out to be too smart for his own good. So maybe he couldn’t take the Shack just yet, but things were still in his favor. Stan would be busy all day, and their simpleton handyman was occupied with four flats and a dead battery. He’d check back later and hopefully find one fried psychic and a boy witch ready to do his bidding. Now, he had other things to take care of—two things, in particular.

 -------- 

Raz was taking a breather on one of the trees that had made up the forest. The ground had broken apart a while ago and scattered in all directions, most not horizontal, and hung over a misty green abyss. Climbing into the trees still imbedded in the blocks of earth was the only way ahead, but he tapped into his lifetime of balancing acts and easily scaled and vaulted through the shattered forest. At least he could see what looked like a town ahead, so standing again he leapt onto the next trunk, then the one below, then up to the next one before leaping off and using his levitation ball to float down to solid footing at last. With a couple more jumps across the void, he was on the outskirts.

Maybe he'd accidentally landed in the mind of a mortician, or a crypt keeper. Not a kid who looked about his age… then again, apparently he could talk to ghosts. Maybe death and dealing with it was just Norman’s thing. The buildings were all somber gray rock formed into headstones or stately gothic mausoleums, and what was apparently a theater even had an obelisk marquee. They all seemed to stick out at odd angles, and the dull green grass around them was unkempt. Besides an occasional dull rumble like distant thunder and his own footsteps, there was no sound. It was almost… peaceful. Not what he’d been expecting at all with so much external turmoil. But if there was a town, there were usually people…

A scream rang out from a side alley, and Raz zeroed in on it, running just in time to see something ethereal get stamped out by a swarm of censors— those obnoxious little businessman-looking fellows. At least they always looked that way to him; Sasha had once explained it all depended on his perception of someone else’s thoughts, and any variation he saw was a reflection of the censors’ actual appearance. They were part of a healthy mind, acting as antibodies and helping to keep out thought patterns that didn’t belong. This included him, but he’d never seen them attack other parts of their own environment.

He snuck closer, watching the group mill about aimlessly now that they saw nothing to attack, and realized that with their ragged clothes and exposed brains, they were supposed to be zombies. Despite the fitting resemblance, they should have faded now that their job was done, so why were they still hanging around? A flicker of movement caught his eye, and what he could only describe as a ghost tried to dart across the street. With a resounding chorus of ‘no’, the censors charged, and the spirit shrieked as it was set upon and mercilessly beaten out of existence. Raz almost felt sick; censors were part of a normal psyche, but these ones were… wrong.

His levitation ball popped up under his feet, and gathering speed he bowled through the goons, obliterating several and damaging the rest, which he finished off with a couple of open-handed strikes. Sweeping the street to make sure he’d really gotten them all, he noticed another ghost waving him into one of the gravestone buildings and hurried in before more enemies showed up.

The interior contrasted sharply with the landscape outside. Here, it was brightly lit in theatrical colors, and Raz had to blink to let his eyes adjust. An ethereal green middle-aged aviator woman sporting short black hair indicated a seat while she peeked out the door one last time, then withdrew and bolted it. Raz didn’t want to be impolite even if he was feeling a little pressed for time, so he sat, thinking maybe she could tell him what was going on.

“We’re so glad you’re here,” she said, giving a warm smile as she turned to face him, and he got a fine view of where a tree branch had run her through and still jutted out. He swallowed nervously, trying hard not to stare. These were probably memories of ghosts Norman actually knew.

“Yeah, what’s going on out there?” he asked, trying to focus on the task at hand, and the spirit sighed.

“Madness. We can’t get out, haven’t been able to for about two days now. If you try, you’re…”

“Beaten to… uh, not-death?”

“Yep. But you gave those things such a pummeling! I know you’re our ticket to freedom,” she said confidently, and he felt a little better.

“So, are you guys like… good memories then? ‘Cause most kids don’t have good memories of dead people.”

“You’re a sharp one!” she hooted. “For a long time, we were Norman’s only semblance of friends.”

“Oh geez,” Raz gasped. “What about the friends he has now? He’s gotta have a couple, right?”

“They were some of the first to go,” the aviator replied sadly. “Hadn’t been here as long, easier to kick out, you know? Everything else fell apart real quick after that.”

“Hm. Any idea how it all got started? I mean, Norman wasn’t always like this, was he?”

The aviator shook her head, looking somber. “He was always a sweetheart, but now…”

“I see. Thanks for the info. I promise everything’s gonna be back to normal soon,” he said firmly, standing, and the lady saluted as he headed out before bolting the door behind him. No more censors had shown up so he took a moment to get his bearings. If all these buildings were houses for ghosts…. He chuckled to himself, glad he’d found some humor in a grim situation.

It was a ghost town.

With that bit of levity to keep him going, he started off once more down the cobblestone road, eventually coming to the other side of town. It felt like it should have been bigger, but maybe that was one of the differences between an adult and child mind— adults had a lot more experience to incorporate into their mental worlds, whereas a kid was still growing. At least that meant things would probably be easier—less ground to cover. What lay ahead of him now was a sort of no-man’s land, barren black earth punctuated by broken wrought iron fencing and shattered tombstones. Beyond that, more floating islands, one particularly big one ruled by a sprawling, twisted leafless oak, and off in the distance what looked like a stereotypical haunted house.

Crossing the wasteland, he could make out what looked like a figure under the tree, and upped his pace. It wasn’t a censor, and it wasn’t a ghost either—maybe it was Norman’s mental impression of himself. Small stature, gravity-defying hair—seemed to fit the bill, though he looked more gaunt here than in the real world. He appeared to be contemplating the tree, and didn’t notice Raz approach until he was only a few yards away, almost to where the ground began to break up again.

“Norman!” Raz waved, but the ground shuddered and he froze, instantly cautious.

“Leave me alone.”

“Hey! You agreed to let me in. I’m just here to help!” he retorted, taking a slow step forward with hands outspread. He could see Norman’s mental projection looked just as worn out as his real self, and felt sorry for him.

“…No one can help me…”

“Except for me! Look, this is all in your head, and—” Raz was cut off as the ground vibrated again, and he realized he probably couldn’t have picked a poorer choice of words, even if he had been about to explain this was his element.

“That’s right! Everyone thinks I’m crazy! They don‘t know… they don‘t know what I…”

The ground split under Raz's feet, a livid green light blinding him as it burst through the dry soil. A sepulchral moan rose through the air, and a huge chasm appeared beneath him. He managed to latch onto the edge and started to clamber up, but the dry soil crumbled in his hands, sending him sliding backwards. A mass of rotting arms reached up, bony fingers wreathed in green flame curled around him, pulled him in, the reek of death, choking on dust—then nothing.

When Raz came to, he was in a dark room. Well, he presumed it was a room. The floor felt smooth, and it creaked when he moved, like wood. His head pounded, and he coughed, the stench of decay still in his nose. His energy felt disorganized, though that was nothing a little concentration couldn’t resolve, but it was like he‘d been put through a wringer. Standing, he tried to make out anything in the darkness beyond, and took a step forward.

A spotlight snapped on and suddenly he was on a cheap school stage, the air loaded with jeers and mocking laughter. Cries of ‘freak’ and ‘creep’ and worse obscenities came relentlessly at him from all sides. He tried yelling back, launched his own insults, but the voices only came back louder, more brutal, and he shrank back under the verbal assault. Some were really starting to hurt…. Searching the darkness for anything, he saw the glow of an exit sign and ran for it, the cacophony of voices ringing in his ears. The doors burst open under his hand, and he found himself in a school hallway—filled with school kid zombies.

They all slowly turned to stare at the newcomer, blank yellowed eyes lolling in their sockets, and step by wobbling step, they began making for him. Granted, they all looked like people with bad special effects makeup, but when a nearby one seized his wrist and began crushing it, he knew they meant business. Twisting free, Raz ducked back into the auditorium, but was met with the same wall of put-downs as before. Frowning, he slid back into the hall, once again surrounded by zombies, and went all out on them—a flurry of punches and psi-blasts that would have quickly torn through anything he’d faced so far. He cleared his little area and dusted off his hands proudly, the bits of zombie scattered around the floor slowly dissolving back into the energy they were supposed to be.

But then a huge, groaning mob rounded the corner, attracted by the noise and movement, and more stumbled out from the lockers that lined the walls. Raz swallowed hard, his back to the door. Was there another way through? No, only the crooked, undead-filled hall ahead, and he was out of space. They enclosed him, grabbing at his clothes and face, catching his limbs and suffocating his attempts to move. He grunted as one wrenched his arm painfully, then another latched onto his other shoulder with a vice-like hand, and more were pressing in to get a piece of him. He could feel his energy failing by the second, and knew he wouldn’t last under this siege unless he did something.

Thinking fast, he attacked to scatter the zombies and threw a shield up, forcing the goons to release their hold and giving him a chance to breathe. He held it for a while, doing his best to study the situation and see what he might be able to use. Unable to touch him, the zombies gave up and went back to shuffling down the halls. Now that was interesting…. Dropping the shield, he took a few steps and put it back up. It worked, but at this rate it’d take him forever to get out of here, and he’d eventually get tired of generating the shield—what then? Maybe….

He let the forcefield dissipate and switched to invisibility. One of the zombies who’d been watching him glanced around in confusion, paused… then shrugged and went back to its shambling un-life. He chuckled under his breath, then began running down the hall, dodging the undead kids as best he could before he wore his ability to cloak himself out. There was a room to his right, and he slipped in, expecting another assault on his ears, but the stained and peeling room was mercifully empty of anything but broken desks and chairs—the typical post-apocalyptic look. So this was how it was going to work. Well, he’d done this kind of thing before, and he could do it again.

Raz gradually made his way through the hellish school, dodging zombies and hopping from one dilapidated classroom to the next. The halls were getting narrower, more claustrophobic, and it was taking longer to edge around each hostile. Where he was now, he could see a small offshoot that looked like the way out. At the very least nothing was coming in or out of it, and that seemed promising. Steeling himself one last time, he cloaked himself and darted out of the classroom, edging around one zombie, then another. But a particularly broad and ponderous zombie stumbled into his path just as he made for the last few feet, forcing him to wait. Raz could only hold his breath as the mass of putrefying flesh ambled by, feeling his mind wearing out from staying invisible for too long. He wished he was good at it like some of his fellow psychic summer campers had been; sure, he was something of a prodigy, but that didn’t mean there weren’t things he needed to work on. Finally the path seemed clear, but his invisibility was also at an end.

A cluster of zombies gawked at him, and one raised a limp arm to point at him. It gurgled, and every other stiff in the hall turned to stare, including the large zombie Raz had nearly avoided. A putrid hand connected with his face, interrupting his attempt to put up a shield, and he was slammed against the lockers and allowed to fall to the grimy tile. The zombies laughed—well, gasped, croaked, sobbed—whatever stood in for laughter when you were dead and rotting. Then the rest attacked.

Raz finally crawled into the hall minus a couple layers of his astral energy and feeling drained. If this was anything close to what public schools were like, he was glad he’d never gone to one. He sat for a while limply propped against the wall, panting and trying to give his mind a break before rising again to continue. It was dark, but vacant and a welcome rest even if he had to feel his way along the walls. There was a corner, then another one, a twist, a long straight bit—but it didn’t seem to end. Grumbling, he kept going. At least there wasn’t anything he had to fight down here. All the same, he hoped it wasn’t a dead end either, for all the obvious reasons. He was about to give up and head back when his hand met a pole, and that pole turned into the rail of a ladder. Finally! He took to it eagerly, but again, it seemed to go on forever. No light, no end—what kind of mindscape was this?

His head knocked against a ceiling, and he rubbed it reflexively as he tried to figure out if he’d missed something. It didn’t give when he pushed his hand against it, but it’d sounded like wood when he’d hit it. He gave it an experimental rap, and sure enough, it was wood. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. If zombies were the theme here…

A telekinetic hand burst through the earth, and Raz hoisted himself up through the hole, glad to be breathing fresh air at last. Just as he had suspected, he’d emerged in a graveyard outside of town. Brushing dirt from his jacket, he shook his head, bemused. This Norman kid… what to do with him? Well, besides finish helping him of course. Massaging his twisted arm, he set off again, making for the no-man’s land, the tree, and the house where Norman was almost certainly hiding.

Raz had no patience for the new swarm of censors that had cropped up. They were now in the process of attacking the houses themselves, with varying degrees of success. With a sinking feeling, he realized the aviator lady’s door had been broken in…. He plowed through the main body of censors on his levitation ball and set the rest on fire, watching them scatter in a panic with his arms folded, grimly satisfied. Chances were these memories were only being suppressed and not forgotten outright, but regardless he was going to make sure the rest were safe.

Reaching the no-man’s land, he noted the blackened scar left by the eruption earlier and cautiously inched by it, not wishing to repeat his experience, then ran the rest of the way to the edge. Hopping the gaps, he came to the weathered oak and saw something engraved in the bark. A few phrases had been scratched out, and something else carved in crudely below it: a mandate to Norman telling him to forget he’d ever trusted anyone, that he’d ever had friends, that he was ever anything more than a freak.

“So that’s where all that came from…. Man, now I really want to know how all this happened.” Raz thought aloud. He ran his hands over the gouged-in words, wondering how to get rid of them. The tips of his fingers tingled, detecting a different person’s energy in the words, and he started to piece together what might have happened to Norman to make him like this. Probably with a psitanium-enhanced round of hypnosis, someone else had set the mandate into his subconscious and let the psychoactive mineral do the rest—just like in True Psychic Tales #253. It was insidious and brilliant; if that kid from earlier really was responsible, he was dealing with something even worse than he’d assumed. And if others were in danger, he didn’t have any time to spare.

Sitting on one of the exposed roots, he concentrated. Telepathy was hard enough, but trying to do it from someone else’s mind was especially difficult, and he wasn’t sure he could just summon Cruller’s projection like he had in times past. Besides, Sasha probably had a better idea of what to do about ingrained hypnosis. Tuning out distant thundering, he homed in on his mentor’s presence and managed to establish a connection.

“Razputin, you’re very faint,” the scientist finally responded after what felt like hours. “What’s happening?”

“This kid was hypnotized, and I need to get rid of the suggestion. It’s what made him go crazy.”

“Hmm. That’s not how hypnosis works, it doesn’t alter minds so drastically.”

“Yeah, but psitanium does.”

“True. Does the suggestion look like an object you can destroy? Sometimes that’s how they manifest.”

“It’s carved into a really big tree. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t destroy that.”

“No, that definitely sounds bad. It will probably be up to him to heal that damage. Do you think you’ve made any progress?”

“Hard to say. I got dragged underground and mauled by a bunch of kid zombies.”

“…Hmm. Well, you may make a breakthrough yet. Keep trying, and remember to be careful. Don‘t do anything rash.”

“Yeah, got it.” Raz answered, and let the connection fade. He’d leave the tree for now then, and focus on what he could do. Sighing, he stood and faced the house looming in the distance. It was time to talk to Norman.

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 4

Here's part four; action and feels (though your mileage may vary) ahead!

“Okay Gideon, we get the whole revenge thing! You didn’t have to get Norman involved!” Dipper shouted, straining against the ropes holding him to the chair. His nemesis chuckled, circling around where he had the twins tied back to back to chairs in his room.

“I know the supernatural when I see it boy, but unlike you I know how to use it. He’s more powerful than anyone knows, even him. I knew he’d be my ticket to the Shack the moment he came to town, and you’d be helpless to stop me then! I jus’ didn’t know y’all would show up at my doorstep and make this all so easy.”

“What did you even do to him, ya weirdo?!” Mabel cried, “It was that weird rock stuff wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?!”

“Now Mabel darlin’, no need to get so worked up,” Gideon said sweetly, turning to face her and patting her cheek. “It was jus’ a bit of findin’ out what made Norman tick, a touch a’ hypnosis, then the rock did the rest.”

“I knew it was hypnosis!” Dipper said under his breath. If he could just wiggle enough and reach his pocket knife… no luck. His arms weren’t that noodle-y. Watching Gideon circle around again, his eyes fell on the amulet. “Where’d you even get one of those again anyway?”

“It wasn’t no internet catalogue, I’ll tell you that! I have my ways, means you couldn’t begin to understand… and now…” Gideon removed his tie and held it in Dipper’s face. “Watch closely.”

He found he couldn’t look away.

-------- 

Raz admitted, Norman was… pretty good at atmosphere. The floor creaked and bucked under his every step in the house, and what light made it through the clouded windows didn’t penetrate very far, scattering in the dust-filled air. The wallpaper was stained and peeling, and it smelled like mildew, and maybe blood. Every so often, there’d be a tapping from the walls or ceiling that seemed to be following him. And it was cold. Temperature usually wasn’t a thing in mental worlds unless fire was involved, but here, it was freezing.

He’d seen plenty of terrifying things in the mental worlds of others, but this…. There was something building, and it wasn‘t doing anything for his nerves. He’d never seen a horror movie in his life, but he was pretty sure he was in one right now. A door slammed upstairs, and he yelped, flattening against the wall. Only silence now.

“I’ve gotta talk to this kid about his mind,” he grumbled, shaking his head. He made for the stairs since the ground floor was pretty obviously empty. The steps gave dangerously under his weight, and the banister wasn’t reassuring either, wobbling when he put his hand on it to steady himself. Cautiously, afraid he’d be sent through rotting wood and into some bottomless pit at any moment, he made his way up, batting aside spider webs that caressed his face. He climbed for a while and knew he was past the second floor by now; the thing about mental worlds was that they rarely obeyed the rules of physics and regularly broke things like conservation of volume. Without any windows, it was getting progressively darker too.

“Ugh, this again,” Raz muttered to himself, and decided to skip the whole walking part. A soft orange glow burst from under his feet and he was off, taking the stairs yards at a time. He should have just done this from the start.

No longer feeling so cautious, he sped upwards, eager to finish things up, but a dull rumble put a damper on his efforts. He stopped to listen as the sound seemed to move through the walls, a shearing noise that scraped along and brought violent shaking with it. He was forced to cling to the bannister, flimsy as it was, to keep from being knocked off his feet as whatever it was moved through and finally dissipated. As frightening as the experience was though, he wasn’t entirely sure that had been a regular feature of the mindscape. Something about the sound was familiar…. Undaunted, he reformed his levitation orb and carried on, his way lit by his own manifested will.

There was a shadow, and something clattered behind him. He froze, trying to comprehend what was happening now…. Had Norman just thrown something at him? It’d take more than that to scare—a book collided with his face, sending him sprawling awkwardly on the steps. He grunted and rubbed at where the spine had connected with his aviator cap, glad he wore the old thing. This was exactly why he’d ditched the official Psychonauts uniform not even halfway into his first mission. It was cool he got to wear the official garb, but it wasn’t nearly as practical—or stylish, so his girlfriend told him.

Glaring up at the top of the stairs, he skipped a few more steps up then ducked, and heard something else whiz overhead and land far below. But after a couple more leaps, it seemed Norman gave up on being a poltergeist, and he climbed the rest of the way without a hitch. The door he found at the top of the stairs was closed, and a soft gray light came through the gap at the bottom. Quietly, Raz turned the handle and pushed the door open, grateful when it didn’t squeal on its hinges—only creaking softly instead.

The room was washed out in the pale light streaming from the windows. A wall of posters in the corner above the bed was the only thing that still seemed to have some color to it, but Raz knew enough about advertising to realize they should have been brighter. Norman was sitting on his bed, facing a window with his back to the door. Even when the floor creaked as the psychic stepped warily into the room, he didn’t move.

“Hey,” Raz said gently, slowly approaching the beleaguered medium. “Everything okay?”

“…No,” Norman replied, an edge to his voice.

“I don’t get it. The stuff that made you lose it has been contained for a while now. You should be feeling better,” Raz wondered aloud, tapping a finger thoughtfully to his chin.

“Why should I feel better? There’s nothing to feel better about.”

“That’s not true, I’m here! You didn’t make it easy, but now I can find out what’s going on and find a way to help.”

“You should just leave. I don’t think you can help… there’s so much… too much wrong,” Norman replied, shoulders sagging. A poster peeled from the wall, and he hurriedly stuck it back, face drawn with concern. They caught each other’s eye for a moment, then the ghost whisperer went back to sulking.

“Man, are you mediums always this moody? ‘Cause that’s what I always hear,” Raz commented, folding his arms in exasperation.

“How would I know? The only other people like me are dead.”

Raz’s exasperation quickly dissipated. “Whoa, sorry. But… you said you talk to ghosts—doesn’t that mean you can still talk to them?”

“They moved on. I can’t contact them after that…. I’m all alone.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. Not like anyone ever helped them either.”

“Well, I guess I can’t do anything for them, but I can help you. What’s going on?”

“You’ll just think I’m crazy. Everyone else already does.”

“No way. I’ve seen a ton of people worse than than you, and I’ve helped all of them. Most were a little more cooperative though, so you gotta give me something to work with. What exactly happened to you two days ago?”

“It’s… it’s only been two days?” Norman finally turned to look at him in shock.

“Yeah.”

“Nice to know it only takes me two days to go totally insane,” he sighed, flopping back on the bed. “I guess it’s no wonder considering the people I deal with.”

“Whoa, harsh. But that’s not the real—”

“Everyone should just leave me alone, including you. I can’t take it anymore.”

“It’d be nice to know what’s actually bothering you,” Raz huffed, folding his arms. He wasn’t getting anywhere, and he suspected it was the hypnosis making it hard for Norman to focus on anything but his anger and desire for isolation. There had to be some way to get him out of that mindset. He thought carefully; what could he say to break the hypnosis’ hold?

“Your life can’t be all bad though. What about the ghosts? They seem to like you a lot.”

“Why should that matter? They can’t do anything… actually they just get me in trouble.”

“Okay, uh… what about your family?”

“You’re not getting it!” Norman sprung from the bed, fists clenched. “I have no one! They all hate me, or they’re afraid. What am I supposed to do?” He almost seemed pleading now, even as tension filled the air. But Raz was starting to put things together, and the only way to be sure was to keep talking.

“And you’re one-hundred-percent sure that’s really how they feel about you? Because for a really long time I thought my dad hated—”

“Just go. You don’t have anything helpful to say. I’ll fix my problems by myself.”

“Wait—”

“Leave.”

“No, Norman, you can’t—”

“Go! Or I’ll make you myself,” he snarled, eyes flashing. Hot streaks of electricity burst from the fringes of his clothes and hair, casting the room in an eerie yellow. Raz leapt back and shielded his eyes; lightning was the last thing he’d expected to come from the medium, and definitely meant things were getting out of control despite his efforts. He had to keep things on the right track.

“Hey! Listen to me!”

“No one will listen to me. Why should I listen to them anymore?” Norman retorted.

“Because sometimes they have important stuff to tell you,” Raz answered, but had to duck as a bolt flew over his head.

“Oh, like how I’m a freak? How I’m better off joining my ghost friends?”

“Oh man, people really told you that?”

“You think I’m lying!?” he cried, projection nothing but raging energy now and forcing Raz back against the wall. So much electricity in a small room was bad for his health; he rubbed the back of his hand where a small arc had connected and left it stinging.

“No, I believe you! But you ignored it before—doesn’t that mean it’s not important?”

“I’m not ignoring it any more! I’m— I’m going to show them why they should all just leave me alone!”

“What?! Norman, I’m pretty sure that’s a really bad idea!” Raz shouted over the roar of the lightning as he edged closer to the door. If things got to be too much he’d need to be able to get out fast, but he desperately hoped it wouldn’t come to that. With his natural defenses gone, Norman needed someone else to help deal with his emotions. Fighting was out of the question; if he hurt Norman’s core even more than it already was who knew what damage that would do. Raz knew he wasn’t the greatest mediator—fighting was definitely his strong point, but he wasn’t known for giving up on anyone either. Most importantly, he had a pretty good idea of how to help now.

“And why not?”

“Because I think it’d make your friends really sad—all of them. The ghosts, and the ones you’re staying with right now.”

“But I don’t—” Norman’s projection flickered, and he stared at the psychic in disbelief.

“You do realize you’re not home, right? You‘ve got a sleeping bag out there, and this looks like it‘s your real room. You‘re definitely staying with friends,” he stated, laying out the facts.

“You’re lying!”

“Oh, now I’m the liar, huh? Look—” He gasped as a strike interrupted and hit him square in the chest. Reeling, he slid to the floor, trying to refocus his scattered thoughts. But he’d been hit with worse, and propped himself up against the wall once he‘d caught his breath and turned to face the medium once more. “You may not remember them, but it seems like you’ve been spending some time with them. Isn‘t that important?”

“Then why can’t I remember them? You’re making it up!” He punctuated his accusation with a bolt. Raz winced as it hit his boot, but he had to keep going.

“Norman, someone screwed with your memories and emotions. I don’t know how it’s connected exactly, but somehow, by taking away the memories of your friends, they made you this angry… sad… lighting thing! They want you to be like this!” he panted, staggering to his feet. “I don’t think you want to though. Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me in.”

“I… I don’t know. I just want everyone to see how horrible they are!” he spat, and launched another stream of lightning at him. He managed to dodge most of it, but those first strikes had taken a lot out of him. After a few steps, it was like his legs wouldn’t listen to his commands and simply gave up, leaving him to collapse. He took the rest of the attack as best he could from his spot on the floor, but a pounding in his ears told him he couldn’t last long. When Norman seemed done, he hoisted himself up once more and faced the glowing ball of anger. “So you do that by being horrible back? Doesn‘t that make you just as bad?”

Norman made to reply, but froze. His image wavered, contorting before snapping back, expression turned from rage to fearful confusion. “N-no…” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“It does, and you know it!” Raz pressed, and the medium recoiled.

“No!” he cried, sending out a small wave of electricity and stunning Raz again. “You don’t understand, everything’s wrong! All of it, and I don’t know why, or how to fix it,” he sobbed, hands at his temples. “I’m not like this, I’m not like her.”

Raz gaped at the sudden change in moods, but at last he‘d made progress—somehow. And now there was a mysterious ‘her’ in the mix, but he figured there’d be time for explanations later, and it meant Norman was remembering something other than the hypnosis’ directive. Maybe now he could finally get to him and put an end to his suffering. Using the wall to pull himself up, he shoved the goggles out of his face. It was hard, like staring at the sun, but he looked Norman in the eyes and smiled. “Don’t worry. I think I definitely know how to help now. Let’s go out to your tree.”

“There’s… there’s something wrong with it. Usually it calms me down when I visit it, but lately it only reminded me of all the bad stuff. I… I wanted to tear it down!” Norman flickered again, projection splitting for an instant, lightning flaring.

“That’s what I’m here to take care of. Come on.” Raz gestured towards the door, then flopped over, legs numb like they’d fallen asleep. Rolling over, he shrugged at Norman, who was looking on in concern.

“I… How bad did I hurt you?”

 “I’ll be fine. If you can get us both to the tree, this’ll all be over really fast.”

“Okay…”

The house trembled, then everything blurred like it was ripped upward. In an instant, Raz was lying on dirt instead of floorboards, and the walls covered in posters had disappeared. The oak twisted over their heads, bare branches swaying ever so slightly in a breeze that had kicked up, and the clouds swirling above were now tinged with maroon streaks.

“Okay, now all you have to do is get rid of the junk that’s written on the tree—the stuff saying you’re a freak that never had friends,” Raz explained, sitting up and giving his troubled friend an encouraging smile.

“B-but… what if it’s true?” Norman wavered, eyes fixed on the tree. The electricity, which had died down since he’d realized something was wrong, began to pick up again. Summoning his strength, Raz stood and leapt in front of the toxic words, landing hard on his stomach against the rough bark. What he did for people sometimes….

“No way,” he coughed. He would turn over, but he was pretty sure his body wouldn’t listen at this point. He couldn’t get any energy back without dropping another astral layer, but that meant he’d have even less presence, which probably wasn’t a good idea even if things were looking better. “If anything… I’m your friend, right? So it’s already not true.”

“Uh…okay… What do I do?”

“I’m… not sure actually. Maybe try remembering what those crossed out things are?”

“I… I’m not sure I can. The tree’s dead…by now…”

“Can’t be. It’s a pretty major part of your psyche. I don’t think you’d be around if it was dead,” Raz replied. “Actually, I think I can still feel a little energy running through it.” He patted the bark gently, nodding.

“Then… I’ll try… but… be ready in case something bad happens.”

Raz was too busy monitoring the tree through his pounding head to catch that last bit. The oak had the slightest of wavelengths, so when a tremor shook the whole thing it was like someone blasting a bullhorn in his ear. He slid unceremoniously from the trunk and landed on the dusty ground with a thud before managing to turn to Norman. “What was that?”

“…Uh oh…”

There was a searing sound, and Raz instantly knew what was happening. Risking the last of his strength and braving electrocution, he leapt forward just as a hellish red portal tore open beneath Norman’s feet and shoved him out of the way. Inhuman claws seized him, digging roughly into his skin and pulled him in, the portal closing far above his head and leaving him in darkness.

The first time this had happened to him, long ago, Raz had really been afraid—the thing had sprung on him when he‘d though he was safe, and he‘d never faced it before. But then the actual fight hadn’t been too hard, and now he was looking forward to blasting this particular problem into oblivion, even with his energy levels so low. Nightmares were demonic-looking, but with the right moves they were easy to beat, and Norman had been plagued by the things long enough.

But something wasn't right.

He wasn't in a den full of fire and brimstone like nightmares usually preferred. There was nothing to shoot at, nothing to hit, and he was pretty sure he couldn’t even move, weakened or not. Peering worriedly into the dark, he could only wait for something to happen. Sniffing, he realized something was happening—the bitter smell of smoke wafted through the air. Holes appeared in the black, burning through like paper over a candle, their edges bright with embers as they spread.

“Let’s burn ‘im!”

Raz found himself standing on concrete steps facing a raging mob. Brandishing everything from the traditional torches and pitchforks to baseball bats, golf clubs and everything in between, they hooted and hollered in a wild frenzy. Some were edging forward, as if they were afraid to get too close…or simply still debating over whether they were really going to go through with whatever they planned.

“Necromancer!”

“You’ll never get away with this!”

“Get ‘em, before they eat us!”

The mob surged, weapons level with his eyes. Raz raised his hands in protest, tried to cry out, but found the words caught in his throat. There was gunfire, and something cracked over his head—a bat maybe, he was too stunned to see. They held back as he fell, then closed in once more. A man pushed a torch into his chest, burning—

The vision faded the same way it had come, the faces of the bloodthirsty civilians bubbling and melting away like old film. He glimpsed the nightmare dying in the darkness beyond, screaming, its serpentine body writhing and livid yellow eyes flickering out, having exhausted the last of its psitanium-granted energy. Blinking, he found himself flat on the ground and thoroughly shaken. He put his hands over his eyes and held them for a while, trying to refocus. That had been more than just a simple nightmare like he’d thought, complete fiction. It was if things that had really happened had gone wrong.

“Is that… have you been dealing with these nightmares the whole time?” he asked quietly, sitting up to see Norman was looking worriedly at him.

“Yeah… Not just at night, either. I saw them during the day too. It was almost all I could see sometimes…. I‘m okay with bad dreams. I watch a lot of scary movies, it happens. Sometimes I think I‘ll use the really good ones and make my own movies.”

“Heh, sounds like a good plan. But these aren’t regular bad dreams. They’re like nightmares and hallucinations had a baby, then that baby hooked up with your memories,” Raz figured with his fingers, “then they got married and had a psycho-mutant baby and put it on steroids. And then someone let that baby rampage through your head. Pretty much sums everything up.” He nodded matter-of-factly, folding his arms.

“It was those things messing with me, huh?”

“Yeah. Enough of those coming at you all the time? No wonder you shut down. And someone wanted that…”

“So it really is because of someone else?”

“Yeah. You can’t think you’re supposed to have these mutant nightmares, right?”

“Maybe…No. I’m not, am I? You took that last one, so I know it’s not just me that can see them. And you say they’re not normal… you saw what I’ve been dealing with. So… I’m… I’m not alone, am I?”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!”

“You saw… you took it… you…”

The lightning flared, dazzling Raz’s vision. He tried rubbing it away, but found a weight around his neck. Norman was hugging him.

“Ah, um. Okay,” he stammered, and the boy released him.

“Sorry,” Norman said, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just… having a friend helped me break through. I forgot who I was, and you reminded me. Oh!” He turned to face the tree, bark cleansed of the hypnotic suggestion and branches heavy with leaves. “It’s good to have this back,” he said softly, a relieved smile on his face as his fingers traced the edges of the bark.

Raz was surprised by how soft-spoken he was, considering he’d been explosive just moments ago. “Don’t worry about it. If I finally had my mind back, I’d probably want to hug someone too. You think that was the last of the nightmares?”

“I hope so, at least of the mutant-baby kind,” he smirked, and the two laughed. But then Norman’s face fell. “Everything’s foggy though, the last… two days?” He scrunched his face. “I think I might have hurt my other friends. I—” he choked on his words, eyes wide with panic.

“What? What’s wrong? Another nightmare?”

“Sort of,” he croaked. “Only this one’s real. It‘s—it‘s kind of a long story. There‘s no time!”

“You can tell me a little right? Time passes a bit differently in the mental world, so I think we have some,” Raz shrugged. Besides, he wanted to make sure Norman was really all there. Sometimes it could be hard to tell if things were actually solved right away.

“Um, okay… So, I’m related to a girl who cursed my town three hundred years ago. She could talk to the dead too, but no one knew about her other powers until they killed her. I didn’t think I had them too…. I was hoping I didn’t.” He hugged his arms to his chest, looking troubled.

“So that’s who you were talking about…. Except you’re not dead,” Raz pointed out, and Norman managed a small smile.

“No, but I’m pretty sure she cursed the town before she died, not after. She just got really powerful as a ghost. Anyway, um, there’s this kid who lives here in Gravity Falls. He’s rivals with the Mystery Shack, and wants to take it from my friends any way he can.”

“Including using you, huh? I think I met the guy—short, fat kid with a blue suit and fancy hair?”

“That’s him! What was he doing? Did he say anything about Dipper and Mabel?”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I ever felt sorry for him. He tried to get me to take something from here, then threw me at you hoping I’d get zapped. I tried questioning him, but he got away and I decided helping you was more important. I don’t know anything about your friends. Sorry,” he replied, and Norman bit his fingernails.

“He’s probably doing the same thing to them as he did to me… minus the ‘unlocking crazy witch powers’ part. We’ve gotta go find them!”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Raz reassured him, “but I’m pretty sure you’re going to need to rest. Let me jump outta here and we’ll see.”

“Okay. Raz… in case I like, drop dead or something… thanks. For not listening to me and sticking around to sort my problems.”

“I’m a Psychonaut. It’s what I do,” Raz grinned, pulling the goggles back on and letting his projection fade and weightlessness take over. He passed the medium’s mental barriers and felt they were weak, but rebuilding, which was good; then felt the comfort of his own mind and body at last. Blinking, he pulled the goggles back to their usual spot on his forehead and went to check on his new friend. He was still curled up against the wall, but his limbs had relaxed and there were no longer waves of emotion pouring from him. In fact, he was sound asleep.

“Heh, guess I could say ‘rest in peace’,” Raz chuckled to himself, but he really was glad Norman seemed to be free of those nightmares. But now two other kids were being driven insane too, by someone who sounded like he didn’t need any help from psitanium to have his own mental issues. He rushed down the stairs, made sure the door was bolted behind him, and with a leap was off rolling again. He crossed town, trying to avoid too much attention by using the side streets, but the people here didn’t seem to bat an eye even when he crossed their path. Maybe between a kid psychic and a tourist trap hawking oddities both natural and manufactured, nothing surprised them anymore.

“Huh.” Raz had worried he’d miss the house, but that was impossible with that giant billboard in the front yard. And now he knew the kid’s name too—he hadn’t even introduced himself earlier. Of course that was the least of Gideon’s offenses and not what Raz found detestable about him. Stepping up to the entry, he debated whether to charge in or go stealth mode on the monstrous little jerk. But his decision was made for him when the door opened.

“Oh, well imagine meetin’ you here, friend,” Gideon drawled, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Cut the act, Gideon. I know what you bought on the black market two weeks ago, and what you’re using it for,” Raz said, poking an accusing finger into the other boy’s chest. “I know you’ve got Norman’s friends in there. You’re going to hand them over, and the meteorite, and no one has to get hurt.”

“Y’sure you don’t want to chat a bit first? Maybe over a cola or somethin’?”

“No way! That’s not gonna work on me, and neither is your little hypnosis trick!”

“We’ll see about that, boy!” Gideon growled, wrapping chunky fingers around his tie. Raz felt something fold around his head and force him to stare into the amulet’s center as it glowed, the turquoise light filling his vision. It felt like his mind was being wrapped in a towel, and something pricked at the edges of his consciousness. But that was as far as Gideon got.

“Why can’t I break through? It worked on the others!” he cried angrily, his concentration wavering just enough for Raz to shake the amulet’s effects and rip it from him.

“No!” Gideon howled, tackling the psychic and knocking him to the ground. Raz got the wind knocked out of him, but he refused to let go of the tie. Gideon tried to pry it from his fingers, but superior hand strength was one of the many traits of an acrobat and he didn’t have much luck. Raz punched him off with his free hand, and the chubby kid rolled onto his back, only to meet Raz’s harsh gaze staring down at him.

“You’re not even a real psychic, are you?”

Gideon shook his head, cowed, then found himself lifted and set on the roof.

“You can hang out there for a while. I’ve gotta clean up your mess,” Raz said with a scowl, then stuck the amulet in his bag and strolled into the ranch house, ignoring Gideon’s shrill protests and threats. Shutting a blaring TV off, Raz listened for Gideon’s captives, but he felt them before he heard them. It wasn’t the same aura of negative emotions as Norman had given off. Actually, it was hard to say what was going on with them; there seemed to be something like a feedback loop muddling his perception. At least he knew where they were now, and headed down the hall.

Opening the door, he found the room was dark but for a luminous purple glow coming from behind two forms slumped back to back in chairs. He darted in, and barely noted the pair were twins before shoving the psitanium in its container and putting it in his bag as well. But they—Norman had said their names were Dipper and Mabel—weren’t out of danger yet. The effects of that much psitanium would take a while to wear off, and by then the damage could already be done.

“Uh,” he started, as he began pulling off the bindings around their feet, “just so you guys know, I’m a friend. I already helped Norman, he’s fine now. I’m gonna take you back home, and then help you, okay? Dipper? Mabel?”

“She’s in sweater town…” Mabel groaned, her face buried in the collar of her sweater, and he stared for a moment before frowning sadly and continuing to untie them. There was no response from her brother, which was a bit more concerning, but he couldn’t afford to waste time guessing what his problem was. Tossing the ropes to the floor, he gently lifted the two with projected hands and maneuvered through the house. Gideon was still swearing oaths from the roof as he exited.

“You’ll rue the day you crossed me, goggles! I’ll put a curse on your whole family! You‘ll—”

Raz abruptly turned and smiled at him serenely. “My family’s already cursed. Thanks though.”

Gideon’s face fell as if he was disappointed someone had beaten him to the punch. Raz spun on his heel and continued on, secretly burning with rage. The Pines remained curled in his telekinetic hold, unaware of anything around them; their rival’s irate shouting fell on deaf ears.

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 5

And here we come to one of the first parts I changed quite a bit when I decided to rewrite most of the middle; though the story's largely the same, how it's told is a little bit different. Enjoy! ;3

There was a brown truck in the parking lot when Raz finally reached the Mystery Shack, and the door was open. Was someone else trying to rob the place now? He quickened his pace, then noticed the bumper stickers on the vehicle-- all from the Shack. An employee then, and probably someone who could help. Resting the siblings against the side of the building, he knocked on the doorframe before entering. A large man was tidying up the gift shop, and his worried expression changed to surprise when Raz walked in.

“Hey kid, sorry, but we’re not open. I think we got attacked by some kinda animal, like a Bigfoot maybe. Come back later dude,” he said, waving him off and looking apologetic.

“More like a kid named Gideon,” Raz said, and the man looked even more concerned. “Don’t worry, I took care of him. Name’s Raz.” He held out his hand, and the man shook it.

“Soos. So what happened? If Gideon was here, have you seen a couple of twins around? They’re like big-time enemies. I’m supposed to be watching the kids for Mr. Pines, but only one’s upstairs.”

“That’s why I’m here. Gideon hypnotized them, and I wanted to be somewhere safe to snap them out of it.”

“Gideon. And dude, no offense, but you’re like—ten. Don’t you think you should leave it to a professional?”

“Eleven, actually. And sir, I happen to be a professional.” Raz smiled, and showed his official badge as he explained everything. Soos seemed to hang on his every word, made him prove he was psychic by reading his mind and bending a spoon, then helped carry Mabel and Dipper up to their beds. It was obvious he was deeply attached to the two, and he even passed a fretful glace in Norman’s direction.

“Anything else I can do to help?”

“Keep Gideon away from here. I may have stuck him on his roof, but he figured out how to use psitanium as a WMD—a weapon of mental destruction,” Raz instructed, leaving out the part about how WMDs had been a major arc in True Psychic Tales issues 68 through 75. “I think finding a way down probably won’t be too hard for him.”

“Understood. These dudes… they’re gonna be okay, right? They were seriously not good the last few days.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get them back—I promise,” he said resolutely. Soos nodded, then left to continue cleaning up and guarding the Shack.

“Razputin darling? Is everything alright?” Milla suddenly chimed, and Raz homed in on her presence.

“So far so good, Agent Vodello. I managed to help the first kid, he’s resting now. I also got the psitanium back, but there’s two more kids who need my help.”

“Oh no, are they as bad as the first?”

“Almost. But it turns out he’s a medium and had more going on than just psitanium poisoning. But the girl’s gone to her happy place, and her brother… I think he’s catatonic.”

“Okay, just be careful sweetie. I’ll update the others, you go do what you have to.”

“So I’m allowed to help these guys too?”

“Isn’t that what we agreed?” she replied, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Awesome—I mean, good.”

Milla laughed, then let him go. He knew she would have wanted him to help regardless of the rules; she’d always had a soft spot for helping children and couldn’t bear their suffering. But now he had to decide who needed his help most immediately. He could at least ask Mabel if he was welcome in her mind, but catatonia was never a good thing. Maybe that feedback loop could actually be helpful here. Focusing on his telepathy, he felt out who was generating what. He was met by a wall of pain, and recoiled from the sudden onslaught. But once he plowed through that, he found an odd mix—determination, fear, worry, paranoia. Even his own concern was being bounced back at him now.

“So that’s what’s going on,” he muttered aloud, breaking his connection. Since psitanium stimulated the parts of the brain responsible for psychic abilities, it wasn’t uncommon that besides inflicting any variety of mental traumas it could awaken certain powers. The problem was, because these abilities weren’t natural, they were imperfect and uncontrolled. Mabel was taking in the emotions of anyone around her, and without the mental abilities to filter it out had become overwhelmed. Dissociating herself from the real world was a defense mechanism, and possibly meant she’d be relatively easy to help.

Without wasting another moment, Raz got to work. Compared to Norman’s, Mabel’s mental walls were in good shape, but he still slipped past the invisible barriers with ease. His feet sank into some kind of soft ground, and as the world swam into view it was obvious why. He was standing on some kind of hill made entirely of purple yarn, and more in other colors poked out of the one thing that immediately gave him pause—the rest of the landscape was flooded by a bright magenta ocean. In fact, everything was in vibrant colors that almost didn’t work together, including the sky— which was an impossible turquoise that faded to a light green near the horizon. Way out in the distance he could see more hills, and the largest was dominated by a castle straight from a fairy tale. And behind him… was the reason he was here. A huge indigo thunderhead filled the sky, pale pink lightning flickering within it as bands of magenta rain swept down from its leading edge.

“Guess that explains where all the water is from,” Raz said to himself, scratching his head. “Now I just have to figure out how to cross it…”

He looked around carefully and even managed to hop to the next couple of hills peeking out of the ocean, but there was nothing here except yarn and he was pretty sure he couldn’t do much with that. The only other thing he could think to do was call out and see if that got a reaction, but for all its color the land seemed devoid of life. At a loss but unwilling to bail, he sat on the cushiony ground and glared at the ocean, wracking his brain for some kind of solution.

As he watched, a wake rose and cut through the choppy waves, swirling magenta split by a curved blue fin. Warily Raz stood and backed away from the edge as the fin circled the island, a dark form cruising just below the surface before sinking back into the depths. Leaning carefully, he scanned the water’s surface and frowned. At least he knew there was something here after all, but it’d be really nice to know if it was friendly or not.

“Hello?” he said tentatively, putting his hands on his hips. Something round and blue burst above the surface right in front of him and squirted water at him, and he realized it was a dolphin trilling at him from the bank. “Oh. Hey there. Were you… stalking me?”

The dolphin uttered an offended squeak, then cleared its throat and spoke. “No, no! Now why would you say something like that?”

“Well, just how you circled this little island… it was kinda stalker-ish. Anyway, what’s going on in here? I came in to investigate, but I’m sorta lost already.”

“Oh man, it’s been bonkers,” the dolphin moaned, sinking so his mouth was below water and blew bubbles before rising again. “Things were all fine and dandy until maybe a few hours ago. Maybe minutes. I dunno, never could tell time. Anyway, next thing ya know it’s raining cats and dogs, and not literally either, that would’ve been awesome. It flooded the whole place and now everyone’s taking shelter in the castle.”

“Wow, it flooded everything that quickly?” Raz said, looking back at the storm.

“Yep. This little hill you’re standing on?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a tree.”

“Whoa,” Raz gasped, looking at his surroundings with new eyes. “Guess I better help before that new storm moves in. Can I ask you a favor, uh…”

“Aoshima.”

“Aoshima? I need to get to the castle, but I can’t swim. Could you maybe find a boat or something that’ll take me?”

“I’ll carry you, no problem! I was headed out to take that sucker on, but they could definitely use some help at the castle, and it’s not that far. Climb on,” the dolphin instructed, rising to expose his back.

“Oh, um, thing is, I can’t really go in deep water at all,” Raz explained nervously. It wasn’t something he liked to bring up.

“Who said we’d be swimming?” Aoshima said with a wink. “Now climb aboard, I’ve got an appointment with a hurricane. I’ve gotta introduce it to the Knuckle Twins.”

With a dangerous grin, Aoshima pulled a pair of heavily-muscled arms out of the water and clenched his fists eagerly, making mock punches at the cloud looming on the horizon. Raz blinked, shook his head, then simply shrugged and hopped onto the—could he really call it a dolphin if it had big muscleman arms? It probably didn’t matter. He situated himself just behind Aoshima’s dorsal fin and gave his ride a thumbs-up. Aoshima nodded, and with a mighty flick of his tail leapt free of the ocean, his arms extended Superman-style. The yarn island was left behind as they ascended, and Raz wondered if this was what being a master levitator was like.

Flying made for a short trip, and they splashed down just in front of the road leading to the castle gate. Raz leaped onto the multicolored popsicle-stick thoroughfare and bid Aoshima farewell; the imaginary creature saluted him before taking off again, headed directly for the storm. Raz returned the salute before facing his own end of the fight—the most extravagantly pink yet formidable stronghold he’d ever encountered. He contemplated scaling the glitter-encrusted walls, but since asking for help had worked pretty well so far, it didn’t hurt to try again.

“Hello? Gatekeeper?” he called, and was startled when the door ground open as soon as he spoke up. A white unicorn with a mane that cycled through the rainbow and matching dappled spots along its flank poked its head through the gap and scrutinized him. Apparently satisfied with what it saw, it opened the door wider and beckoned him in with a hoof.

“Thanks. Can you tell me where I can find Mabel? I need to talk to her,” Raz asked once the equine had closed and locked the gates. The unicorn gave him a sidelong glance, then tossed its head and pointed across the grounds to the keep with its horn before retreating into the gatehouse-turned-stable.

“Huh. I guess not everything talks in here after all. At least he was still helpful,” Raz said to himself with a shrug, and started off through the grounds.

The town within the walls was quaint, with small houses lining each street and a center square consisting of a tiny park. It wasn’t exactly his style, but it was pleasant nevertheless, and he already had a good sense about the sort of person Mabel was just based on his encounters so far. But things were clearly amiss; though he could tell they were houses, each one was cloaked in a heavy knit cozy that made entry impossible. What he presumed were shops had cutesy stickers saying ‘sorry, we’re closed!’ pasted on their exteriors, and he realized even the flowers lining the streets were just paper cut-outs. Much like Norman’s mind the streets were abandoned, but at least this time there weren’t any malfunctioning censors to worry about. He made his way through town without a hitch, and soon the houses gave way to what could be considered the castle proper. The door to the keep was set into a deep vaulted portico, and as he approached two knights stepped out from niches carved into the glimmering stone walls, their lances crossed.

“No passing!”

“I also say no passing!”

Raz eyed them skeptically. “Look, I don’t want to have to hurt you. I’m here to help, I promise.”

“We have orders of the most rad importance to let no one through!” one of the knights replied, and the other nodded emphatically, dropping his lance and scrambling to pick it up again to point at Raz’s head.

“Yes! Retreat, or we will be forced to use our weapons of ultimate power!”

“Oh boy.” Raz rolled his eyes, not particularly intimidated by the bumbling knights. “Look, I’m a Psychonaut, an authority figure. I’m here to make sure Mabel’s okay.”

“Well we are the authority dudes around here! If you don’t leave, we will be forced to use—” the knight paused to draw a keytar from his back—“the power of music!”

“Excellent intro, bro,” his partner commented, and they bumped fists.

 “Yeah, great, but in case you haven’t noticed, storm’s moving in,” Raz said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the looming clouds. “If we’re gonna go, make it quick.”

“Whoa, dude’s hardcore. Okay, ready Craz?” the knight asked, putting his lance aside and holding his keytar at the ready.

“Always, Zyler!” the other replied, rolling out a synth drum kit from the niche and sticks from his scabbard. Raz blinked incredulously as they started to play a cheesy melody, entirely serious about the showdown. The power of this music was entirely underwhelming, and he wondered if he could simply sneak by. The two certainly seemed oblivious enough for it to work, but the drum kit blocked most of the entrance and made it risky. Maybe they’d just wear themselves out instead.

“It’s not working!” Zyler cried, frantic.

“Play harder!” Craz replied, ramping up the tempo, and his partner hurried to match his pace. Raz simply waited, tapping his foot impatiently until Zyler fumbled his instrument, gauntlet-covered hands too cumbersome to keep up anymore.

“I can’t believe it… not even the power of music can beat this guy…” Craz uttered, arms slack.

“Do you realize what this means?” his partner said fearfully, and without warning the two suddenly clutched to one another.

“We’re doomed!”

“Oh come on!” Raz sighed. “You’re only doomed if that storm gets here and floods the place, not because your music was terrible.”

“Zyler, you know what I just realized?”

“What bro?”

“The dude we just lost to? He’s got a free pass.”

“Whoa, you’re totally right!”

“Huh?” Raz looked at each of them skeptically.

“Your sweater, dude! It’s one hundred-percent Lady Mabelton approved,” Craz explained, removing his helmet and kneeling to point at the psychic’s garment. Raz hadn’t noticed anything, but now that he looked, he was wearing a different sweater under his jacket— it was still green, but had subtler stripes and a cutesy brain with a little smiley face on the front surrounded by the phrase ‘Think Big!’ in multicolored bubble letters stitched onto it. Blinking, he gave Craz a questioning look.

“These helmets are pretty not-rad in the vision department, so we didn’t see your pass,” Zyler explained, following his partner’s example and taking his off.

“So… this thing’s kinda like a passport?” Raz asked, tugging at the chunky yarn.

“Basically. You get one, the lady in charge must think you’re okay,” Craz replied, nodding.

“That would’ve been nice to know before you tried attacking me with bad music,” he said, raising a brow at the would-be knights, who both looked aside. “So… did anyone else try to get in here before me?”

“Yes!” Zyler quickly responded, unusually fierce.

“That dude definitely did not have a sweater either. We found him sneaking around the castle doing stuff,” Craz added, looking disgusted, and Zyler nodded quickly.

“He wasn't impervious to the power of music though,” he said, and the two high-fived.

“Good to know you guys kicked him out,” Raz said approvingly, “but looks like he still managed to mess with things. Listen, I need to talk to Mabel—”

“Lady Mabelton,” Zyler corrected.

“…Lady Mabelton, and find out what’s going on. Can you tell me where she is?”

“Well…” Craz trailed, exchanging looks with his friend.

“She doesn't exactly want to see anyone right now. That’s why we’re guarding the door,” Zyler answered. “We know you’ve got a free pass and stuff, and that’s totally rad, but she’s pretty busy right now and shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“But this is urgent, it—it’ll affect the whole kingdom, and I’m sure the lady cares about her subjects’ welfare, right?” Raz reasoned, and the two scratched their heads.

“Totally,” they agreed in unison.

“So let me in already!”

“Dude makes a good argument,” Craz commented, and his partner nodded. They set their instruments down and pulled the heavy door open to let him pass, and Raz saluted them as he headed in at last.

“Finally,” he muttered as the door shut behind him. He wished the musical showdown had been a real fight, but maybe that was yet to come, and at least those two weren’t entirely useless. If they’d managed to chase Gideon off, maybe things weren’t so dire. For now he’d focus on finding Mabel and getting rid of whatever outside influences he could find.

But that was easier said than done. As he looked up, the keep interior only got more tangled and confusing, and the upper reaches faded into a warm pink haze. For anyone else, it might have been intimidating, but Raz rolled his shoulders and headed in, familiar enough with fairy tales to know that the damsel in distress was generally hidden away in the highest part of the castle.

A staircase ahead seemed to lead directly up, but then turned on its side halfway up and wound around until he was less than a third of the way up, and the walkway ahead spiraled and twisted down again, forcing Raz to reconsider how he was tackling this. At least he didn’t mind exploring, and the keep offered plenty in the way of rooms and galleries full of all the things Mabel loved. One door he found opened overlooking a dance floor, while another room held a petting zoo containing everything from the usual llamas and sheep to tigers, wombats, and even a narwhal. Upon opening, another room buried him in an avalanche of glitter and plastic gems; after struggling to sweep the mess up and shaking himself out, he took a breather. Sitting with his back against the door, he studied the upper reaches to see if he could figure out the right way up. With how much the place twisted around it was easy to lose track—and a crack of nearby thunder didn’t help.

“I hope Aoshima’s doing okay,” Raz mused as he stood and dusted himself off again. “Sounds like he didn’t have much luck fighting that storm off.”

“Nah, but he’s giving it his best shot,” a small voice piped up, and Raz looked down to see a pig dressed in a business suit by his leg.

“Uh… hey there.”

“Ah, you’ve got a pass. Alright, move along,” the pig said, waving him off with a hoof, and Raz made a connection.

“I get it! You’re a censor, aren’t you? I was wondering why I hadn’t seen any around.”

“Yeah, we've been pretty busy, as you can guess,” the pig snuffled, and Raz nodded.

“Yeah. I’m here to help with that. So as long as I have this sweater, we’re cool?”

“That’s how it works. Unless you go wrecking things or being generally mean to the lady. Then we have a problem,” the pig warned, narrowing its little black eyes dangerously.

“I don’t think we’ll have any problems,” Raz said, holding up his hands. “I am kinda having one right now though—how do I see Ma—Lady Mabelton? I can’t find the right way up.”

“Well, she doesn't exactly want to see anyone—”

“I got that, thanks.”

The pig blinked slowly at him, then continued. “As I was saying, she doesn’t want to see anyone, but she might make an exception since you’re wearing a pass. The tower staircase is straight ahead and to your right.”

“Huh. That was easier than I thought. I better get going though, thanks for the help.”

The pig censor waved him off and trotted away, turned, and walked straight up the wall. Raz shrugged and headed on himself, remembering the pig’s instruction and grateful everyone was so helpful in here. Sure enough, at the end of the hall there was a staircase, but as Raz followed its path upwards, things got complicated, twisting so that at some points he was walking upside down, or climbing on the bars of the railing like a ladder. It even looped through a wall and into a room where more pig censors were discussing dinner plans. But at least he was consistently moving up now, and the surroundings were becoming closer, cozier, with walls draped in yarn tapestries and floors carpeted with bright fake furs. It wasn’t like the claustrophobic confines of Norman’s zombie school though—more like an attempt at the close warmth of a hug. The final landing was barely big enough to take a few steps in before it dead-ended into thick knit walls. Raz looked up, grinned, and gave the weave a tug before eagerly taking to it.

One long and cramped climb later, he finally emerged in a round, comfortably sized and furnished room. A shelf with little knickknacks sat near the canopied bed, and a heap of pillows and stuffed animals was stacked to one side. Posters of teen stars plastered glittery purple walls, and strings of lights hung from the ceiling even though a fancy chandelier also lit the space. A variety of cats were scattered around, playing or sleeping, and one came to brush across his legs. Smiling at it, he took off his goggles and bent to pet it briefly. Looking up, he saw Mabel at a window, holding a stuffed tiger and looking over her land with concern. Thunder shook the tower, and as she glanced worriedly around she spotted him.

“Aw man, not another boy in here. Do you want to marry me too?” she huffed, frowning at him.

“Of course not! I actually happen to be taken already. Is that what all this is? Because Gideon wants to marry you?” Raz replied, gesturing to the yarn draped over the windows and storm outside.

“Kinda, but there’s this weird rock stuff he had too. He’s using it to drive us all bonkers…. He’s not still out there is he? I kicked his butt pretty hard, but it still feels all gross, like he’s still lurking like the Creepy McCreep-face he is,” Mabel explained, making a face as she sat on her bed and played with the stuffed tiger’s arms absentmindedly.

“I haven’t seen any signs of him. I guess he didn’t try to do the same thing to you he did to Norman—he didn’t want to talk to me at all, which made getting rid of Gideon’s hypnosis really hard. I’m glad you’re a lot more willing to chat,” Raz answered, walking over, and Mabel scooted over and patted the spot next to her.

“Norman’s quiet anyway,” Mabel said, smiling as she pulled out a thin moss-green scrapbook from under her pillow. “You just gotta know what to talk to him about, see? Zombies are always a favorite, but he’s surprisingly artistic too.”

“Heh, nice, though I gathered the bit about the zombies when I was in his head. So, any ideas how to get rid of the storm outside? Even if Gideon failed to hypnotize you, that’s still kind of a big deal.”

“I don’t feel hypnotized…. So that’s why I've been wanting to act like a chicken!”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that’s not what Gideon would've done. You said something about him wanting to marry you right? It’d probably be something more like trying to make you fall in love with him. I read this exact thing in a comic book once,” Raz supposed, and they pondered together for a moment.

“Now that I think about it… he did say something about forgetting my dreams to live in his… super gross, am I right?”

“Whoa. You’re right, he is a creep.”

“I know right? He swore vengeance on our whole family and basically won’t leave us alone, ugh. And now he’s doing all this brainwashing stuff, and it’s really freaking me out,” she replied sadly, hugging the stuffed tiger close, and Raz patted her shoulder.

“Man, so he really is as bad as I thought. So… if he wanted you to forget your dreams… how would he do that exactly?”

“Hmm… well, I definitely haven’t been feeling that creative spark, you know? I just can’t think of anything, dreams or otherwise,” she sighed, frustrated, and Raz nodded thoughtfully.

“Creative spark? I mean, the place looks pretty creative to me…”

“Yeah, but that’s all old stuff I already came up with. I like thinking of new stuff, but I just…”

“Not happening, huh?”

Mabel shook her head, foot weakly scuffing the floor. Raz studied her downcast face before clenching his fist and standing.

“Mabel, I’m gonna help get your creativity back. I think Gideon did something to it, and that made everything else kinda fall apart. At least, it didn’t help. Any hints on how to get things going again?”

“Hmm…” Mabel scrunched up her face as she thought, but shook her head.

“That’s okay, I can figure it out. You just stay up here and try to relax,” he consoled her, then headed back to comb through the castle again. As he climbed down, he thought; if he hadn’t come across anything responsible for Mabel’s creativity or what could be blocking it on his way up… then maybe it was somewhere on the lower floors he hadn’t explored. At least heading down would be a lot easier—once he reached the main hall, he simply jumped over a bannister and dropped all the way to the first floor. Finding a set of stairs that lead down, he was disappointed to find a huge room with a wave pool in it. The other doors in the room only opened to closets of pool supplies—nothing helpful. Perplexed, Raz headed back up and stood in the foyer while he scrutinized the upper reaches, trying to think if he’d missed anything. But each room was so distinct he knew he’d been to every one.

“So if it’s not in the castle… then it’s gotta be outside,” he reasoned, turning to the doors and bracing himself for a storm.

Raz’s jaw fell as he stepped out into a very different mental world than the one he’d entered not long ago. Craz and Zyler’s niches were empty, and he hoped it was just because they’d retreated inside— staring out at the town in awe, he wouldn’t blame them.

The rain coming down in sheets may have been magenta, but it was still leaching all the color from the yarn cozies and eating away at the glitter-coated walls, whole layers of the stuff wrinkling and peeling away to expose dull gray stone beneath. The paper flowers had all but disintegrated, and deep puddles were starting to form already. If he didn’t hurry, all of this would become permanent, and he didn’t want to learn what it would mean for Mabel.

Summoning his levitation ball, he sped through town and did a full sweep of the grounds, even poking around the back side of the castle keep where he found a full garden, though all the blooms were closed and the butterflies he found were all huddled under leaves, trying to stay dry. Rolling back into town, he dropped his levitation and sat on the small bench in the park, frustrated and discouraged. Lighting cracked sharply overhead and he flinched, recalling his latest brush with electricity, but he wasn’t allowed to dwell on it as a large dolphin landed on top of him.

Of course it wasn't just any dolphin, it was Aoshima, and he was in rough shape. At first, Raz thought he was unconscious as he lifted him off with telekinesis, but he groaned as he was laid on the ground and his eyes fluttered open.

“I tried but… no power…” he rasped, tail flapping weakly.

“I bet you did great—but it is pretty hard to punch a cloud,” Raz consoled, patting the creature on the head. “Anyway, once I get Mabel’s creativity back I bet you’ll be back at full strength in no time. Only problem is… I can’t seem to find it.”

“So that’s why…” Aoshima said in a hushed tone, frowning. “Mabel believes in the power of love, but it’s her imagination that keeps this place running.”

               “So… it’s like a generator?”

“Almost,” the dolphin grunted, rolling over and heaving himself up on his arms. Raz watched curiously as he crawled over to the fountain at the center of the park, then waved the psychic over. Once Raz was standing at his side, Aoshima gripped the fountain and heaved, throwing his whole body into the effort but chittering angrily if Raz moved to help. The main drum separated from the fountain’s base, and with a roar, Aoshima tossed it aside to leave nothing but a dark hole and an exposed pipe. Panting from his efforts, the dolphin patted Raz on the head before he collapsed and faded away, returning to the raw mental energy he’d formed from.

Raz gaped sadly at where the dolphin had been moments ago, then balled his fists and leapt into the hole, grabbing the pipe and sliding down into the shadows. It went on for quite a while, and gave him time to think. Much like Norman, Mabel was having trouble getting over the Psitanium exposure, which seemed to hint that he’d almost arrived too late. The thought patterns that had arisen out of the mineral’s effects paired with whatever Gideon did were near a state of self-sustainment, and that was what made his mission so urgent. Regular people could trap themselves in similar situations all the time, but this had been given an extra nudge that made it far more serious than most people ever had to worry about… and Raz suspected that was one reason he’d been allowed to break the rules a little.

The pipe finally took a sharp turn into a wall, and a jar of fireflies set into a sconce lit a small landing just below. Dropping down, he surveyed his surroundings; the only hint there was more here than just void was the sound of dripping water echoing everywhere and a tiny square of light far below. Another pipe jutted out of the landing, vanishing into the darkness, and Raz tapped it with his foot. It clanged a little but seemed otherwise solid, so he took a few paces back and thought about how Lili had told him he’d make a great skateboarder once before taking a running start and leaping to give himself enough momentum to start sliding. As the landing went out of reach, Raz hoped he didn’t need that jar of fireflies to see.

After a lot of sliding around an apparently huge room and a few harrowing leaps of faith, the square of light had finally become a doorway and Raz was on the last pipe, headed straight for it. At least friction wasn't a big deal in the mental world; he was pretty sure he should've burned through his shoes by now—certainly in the real world that would be the case. Instead he just felt a little worn out from balancing for so long as he hopped off the pipe onto another simple landing just before the door. The yellow light reflected off several other pipes nearby, all of which seemed to connect to this room.

“Hmm… maybe it’s more like a boiler…” Raz wondered, and stepped in. His guess turned out to be wrong, not that it mattered much. The important thing was that this bizarre, whimsical machine sitting in the middle of the room wasn’t running. A huge sign surrounded by blinking lights on the front named it the Create-o-matic 3000, and there was a keypad and an output slot along with a maintenance panel beneath. He walked around it, ducking under pipes and tubing, but nothing on the outside looked broken or out of place. If only Sasha were here—he was the mechanically inclined out of everyone. Obviously the problem was on the inside.

Clambering through the maintenance panel, Raz was immediately enclosed by the ‘Create-o-matic’s nonsensical inner workings, and in some ways he was relieved to find they were completely made up. Knowledge of actual mechanical principles were useless in here: a team of hamsters turned wheels attached to gears that did nothing, tubes eventually connected to themselves, and Raz seemed to recall electricity had to be made by people—not one of those plasma ball things. But he knew Mabel wasn't one to care about how machines actually worked, just knew that her imagination was a silly one, and right now, it was missing a spark.

Digging through a tangle of wires, he found a missing spark wasn't the only problem. In fact, it was hardly the cause of Mabel’s distress. At the heart of the machine was a funnel where Raz figured on a normal day, Mabel could put ideas in to create new ones—fuel, basically. Only now it was clogged, piled high with merchandise that all featured Gideon’s face.

“Ugh, could this guy get any more selfish?” Raz sneered, pulling a plush of the kid out and examining it with disdain before sticking it in his bag, figuring Mabel would want to see the cause of the problem. Then, focusing on the pile of junk, he thought of the most satisfying way to get rid of it.

The heap burst into tall orange flames, quickly reducing into ash. The machine shuddered, and for a moment Raz wondered if he was safe—he could hear something whining as it warmed up, and the hamsters squeaked as they began running even faster. He hurried out and shut the maintenance hatch just as the Create-o-matic started up, back at full power. Raz pumped his fist and turned to head out of the room only to recall getting out the way he’d come would be impossible, and frowned. Considering his luck before though, simply asking for help just might work.

“Uh, hello? Mabel? I could use a way out of here…” he called, voice echoing around the room as he waited for something to happen.

A giant bubble squeezed out of the doorway behind him, its surface swirling with prismatic color, and wrapped around him. Then it floated up with him inside, and he chuckled while it carried him up through the dark room and out. The storm still loomed overhead, but the rain had slowed to a light sprinkle. He expected the bubble to drop him off in the park, but it kept going, all the way up to the castle tower where Mabel waited on a balcony wearing an eager look.

“My spark’s back! What did you do?” she asked as the bubble landed and burst in a puff of confetti.

“I found this machine clogged with Gideon stuff,” Raz replied, pulling the plush out of his bag, and Mabel recoiled, hissing like a cat.

“Evil! Get that thing out of here!”

“With pleasure. Wanna throw it for me?” he said, holding the loathsome thing out. Mabel took it and hurled the plush as hard as she could, sending it high over the castle. Taking aim, Raz hit it with a psi-blast, and the Gideon plush exploded in a cloud of stuffing and bubbling turquoise energy that evaporated—Gideon’s hypnosis was gone entirely.

“That was awesome!” Mabel cried, tackling him into a hug. “I feel almost one hundred percent me again! Now we just gotta get rid of this storm cloud…”

“Yeah… Aoshima tried to fight it but didn't have much luck. He actually… disappeared trying to help me.”

“Aw, whaaat? We've gotta fix that right away!”

The armed dolphin was instantly beside her on the balcony, and they hugged briefly before turning to face the storm again. Raz was glad to see things could be rectified so quickly— that cloud was probably no match for Mabel at full imaginative capabilities.

“So punching didn't work, huh?” she asked her animal friend, and he nodded severely.

“Nope. Not even a full assault.”

“Hmm… maybe we could blow it away, with like a hairdryer or fan or something,” Mabel wondered.

“I think we’re gonna need something really big and powerful—like really big,” Raz input, and the others nodded.

“Definitely. Umm… I've got it!” Mabel said, grinning broadly.

A shrill roar echoed through the sky, and a shadow passed overhead. Raz looked up to see an enormous dragon, but of course, this was no typical fire-breathing behemoth. Its body was shaped like a hairdryer, with a short, rounded head that blended smoothly into its neck and large circular vents on its shoulders; even its tail tapered into a plug. Coated in gleaming pink plastic scales, it soared on purple wings and gnashed jagged, almost cartoony teeth at the indigo cloud.

“What are you waiting for, Bernadine?! Sic ‘em!” Mabel shouted, and her dragon roared again as it flew at the nebulous menace and unleashed a stream of hot, dry air. The cloud withered under the blast, whole tracts of vapor dissipating as Bernadine systematically swept through until all that was left were a few pathetic puffs, and those evaporated on their own. The trio on the balcony cheered as the dragon gave a victorious bellow, then looped around to join them.

“Excellent work, Bernie. Take five. Actually, you too Aoshima, you’ve worked really hard today. Gold stars for both of you,” Mabel said, patting a gold star sticker on each of their noses and waving her creatures off. They nodded and soared off together, and the two watched them vanish into the sky.

“So… feeling better?” Raz asked, and found his feet leaving the ground as Mabel squeezed him in a bear hug.

“So much! Creepy ‘I-might-actually-love-Gideon’ thoughts are gone and the muse is back! I’m gonna make so much stuff now, it’ll be great.”

“Awesome. Well, I’m off to help your brother. Let me know if you need anything,” Raz said, but paused as Mabel frowned.

“I can’t believe I forgot about my brother… he’s in trouble too!” she cried, grabbling him by the shoulders and shaking him violently. “We’ve gotta save him Raz!”

“I know, don’t worry. You just rest,” he managed to say through being rattled around, and she seemed to calm down.

“Okay. It’s just, Gideon hypnotized him first, and I could feel what happened to him the whole time. He’s always been kind of paranoid, but Gideon made it like, a gazillion times worse, and the rock stuff was already giving him a killer headache…. I don’t want him to be stuck like that,” she explained sadly, twisting a bit of hair in her hands.

“I could kinda tell that’s what was going on… but don’t worry, I’ve helped people in a lot worse shape. He shouldn’t be too bad,” Raz replied with a smile.

“I hope so…” Mabel trailed, biting her lip.

“C’mon, we just got over being sad. Once I get your brother fixed up, I promise we’ll all go kick Gideon’s real-world butt, okay?”

“Oh yeah,” Mabel giggled, brightening at the prospect. “Sorry, it’s just, he’s my twin. I can’t help but worry about him sometimes. Thanks Raz.”

He returned her smile, then let his presence in her mind fade. Stretching, he pulled the goggles off for a moment and let his eyes adjust to a world that wasn’t full of neon color. Mabel’s mental world reminded him a lot of Milla’s, and for a moment he wondered how the two would get along if they ever met—famously, no doubt. He’d have to introduce them when this was all over. At least he seemed to be getting close; turning to Dipper, he realized the room felt quieter—the empathy loop had broken at last. There was just one more thing to do and then Gideon would get what he deserved. Raz cracked his knuckles and put his goggles on for what would hopefully be the last time today, and got to work.

--------

Norman woke, parched and a little dizzy. He was still exhausted, but at least the sensation of his mind tearing itself apart was gone. Rubbing his eyes, he looked up to see the kid he thought maybe he’d only imagined seated between the twins’ beds, deep in concentration. It was good to see he’d kept his word, but Norman couldn’t help but still be worried for his friends. Seeing them unconscious, limp…. He frowned, hugging his arms to his shoulders and heading downstairs, convincing himself they’d be alright. After all, Raz had helped him. From what few snatches he remembered, he’d been in pretty serious trouble. Lightning flashed through his thoughts, and he grimaced, wishing he was only remembering Aggie.

“Dude, you’re alive!” Soos cried when he noticed him come down the stairs, and lifted him in a giant hug. “How’re our other dudes doing?”

“I… I dunno,” Norman gasped, and Soos released him. “I think they’re okay though. Or they will be, Raz isn’t done yet.” He shrugged, but Soos nodded solemnly.

“A master at work. Check out this spoon he bent with his awesome psychic powers!” Soos pulled the utensil from a pocket, and Norman admitted it was kind of impressive how it was folded almost in half. But a creeping lightheadedness told him he had more pressing things to consider. Maybe there was something to his grandma’s favorite medical dramas after all.

“Cool. But I got up because I’m pretty sure I’m dehydrated.”

“On it!” Soos saluted, and hurried to get him something to drink, even if he could have done it himself. Taking a seat in the worn chair in the living room, he leaned back and rested, trying not to think about his friends or the pounding in his ears. The house seemed weirdly quiet too, even with Soos messing around in the kitchen, and he knew it was missing the people that gave it life.

“Okay dude, figured water would be best,” Soos said, pushing a glass into his hand. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for Gideon; little guy hasn’t shown his mug yet but I bet he will soon. Heh, Raz stuck him on his roof. Bought us a few hours so far,” the handyman explained while Norman enjoyed what seemed like the best-tasting water he’d ever had.

“Maybe he’ll leave us alone,” Norman muttered into his drink, but knew he was wrong. He just wanted to be able to catch up on all the sleep he’d been forced to miss, that they’d all missed. At least what he’d gotten so far was solid and dreamless— what his grandma would probably call a dead sleep. He chuckled to himself, then finished the water off and let Soos take the glass when he headed back upstairs. Nothing had changed in his absence, and he desperately wanted to know how things were going, but Raz was probably hard at work and shouldn’t be bothered. All he could do was stretch out on his sleeping bag and hope Soos could keep them all safe.

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 6

Another part that changed a lot in editing, it's kind of a lot shorter, but hopefully still a good read. :3

Raz found himself in a world that was essentially the opposite of Mabel’s mind. He stood in a large room lined by tall bookshelves—empty ones, because their contents were currently heaped on the floor like old leaves. The ceiling opened to a soft rust-orange sky, and huge trees sank their twisting roots into the piles of books along the walls and cast most of the understory in shadow, while moss and ferns carpeted anywhere not buried in books. The colors were muted; not exactly dull, but everything had a misty, almost ephemeral look. The air felt heavy and damp, and pale turquoise mist drifted just above the ground, coming up to Raz’s waist in some spots. With silence pressing in, it seemed the place had been abandoned for years, and the forest had come to claim what had always belonged to it.

A cluttered hall opened directly ahead, so he started off, heading into the mist and almost immediately coming to another hall that ran perpendicular to the first. One way looked as good as the next, so he headed right, feeling a little bad for all the books he was crumpling underfoot. At least they weren’t real ones, so he continued undaunted, eventually coming to a place where the floor warped and sank into a murky pool, its dark glassy surface dotted by floating pages. It was impossible to tell how deep it was, and he didn’t really want to find out first hand. Some other way across seemed likely. The fallen tree that had lodged in the upper shelves looked promising, caked as it was in moss and vines that trailed down to the water’s edge. Looking past the log, he saw more vines strung down the hall beyond and grinned—he’d found his way through.

Climbing up was a piece of cake, and Raz made sure his footing was steady before judging the distance and leaping to the first vine. Swinging his legs, he built up his momentum and flung to the next one, and the next, making it look effortless as he vaulted over the sunken floor. Making it to the other side, Raz dusted his hands and headed on, taking a sharp left, and then another into a longer hall. Except for his footsteps it was eerily quiet, but a sense of being watched persisted, and he found himself glancing over his shoulder more than once. Of course there was never anything there.

The hall finally opened up into another squarish room, scattered with a few broken tables and decrepit chairs. But here the floor was clear, with rich moss filling the gaps between tan stone tiles in an emerald grid. Raz walked to the center of the room and looked around, perplexed. There wasn’t another way out, and with no way to climb back up to the vines he couldn’t go back the way he came either. But he liked a good puzzle, and it was pretty obvious that was what this room was. The shelves were still empty, so nothing was hidden there. That left the floor and furniture.

The tables and chairs, though splintered and stained from age, refused to break if he punched them, but they could be moved, and Raz wondered if he could stack them high enough to reach the top of the shelves and run up there. There was no harm in trying, so he piled them as high as he could and scaled the rickety pile. But even bouncing with levitation he still came up short. Dropping back on the floor, Raz studied his construction again to see if there was any way he could make it higher, but it was pretty clear he just didn’t have enough stuff.

“So much for that,” he sighed, lowering his gaze in disappointment. “Hm?”

Something looked odd about one of the tiles under a table leg. Getting on his hands and knees, he crawled under to investigate and found the tile had sunk under the tower’s weight. Heedless of any danger he reached over and pressed it. The stack of furniture creaked above him, but a deeper grinding sound caught his attention before stopping with a clunk. Nothing else happened, but Raz grinned. Extracting himself from under the table, he sped around the room, stomping on tiles to see if he got more to budge.

With a grand total of seven hidden buttons, a section of the wall trembled and sank into the floor. Raz congratulated himself on a job well done and ventured down the new hall, which looked about the same as the others, though it was a little foggier here. It also took more twists and turns, to the point that Raz thought he could be lost. The forest was thicker here too, with whole sections of floor overgrown by grass and ferns, the trees overhead casting heavy shadows, their roots so thick down the sides of the bookcases that passage was a tight squeeze in some places. The close quarters and ever-present sense of being watched was making Raz antsy; he kept thinking he saw things darting through the shadows, so when a troop of censors suddenly appeared in front of him he nearly jumped out of his skin. But he was grateful for the action and dealt with them handily before turning back to navigating the forest.

Extracting himself from a tangle of roots, he tripped and tumbled onto his back. Blinking, he found a pair of wide, pale yellow eyes staring back at him before whatever they belonged to darted into the fog with a skittering sound. Raz sprang to his feet and chased after whatever it was through considerably clearer halls, stumbling over the occasional loose book but managing to keep the little dark blur in sight. It moved erratically, darting from side to side and sometimes up the shelves before stumbling and dropping back to the floor, all without breaking its pace until finally they reached a dead end. It tried scampering up the wall, but Raz seized it with a projected hand and brought it closer to get a good look at it.

It seemed to resemble a nightmare, with wide glowing eyes and a shimmering, sleek dark body; but it looked more like cross between a lizard and a centipede with multiple pairs of undulating stick-like legs. Its small pointed face had a jagged mouth that ran all the way to its short neck, and was adorned with two long, twitchy feelers. Its tail was long and thin, and split into three tendrils about a third of the way down that matched the antennae on its head in both appearance and movement. It struggled frantically, hissing quietly while Raz observed it.

“Well you don’t look so bad,” he commented, squinting at the little creature. “Definitely not as bad as a nightmare, though you’re still creepy. Still, you’re not trying to kill me so… guess I can let you go.”

Before he had a chance to, the creature’s hiss grew into a roar of static, and Raz realized that’s what it had always sounded like. Bursting out of his grasp, the critter’s form expanded and changed color, warping until Raz was faced with whole new beast: a huge gnome monster made of an army of actual gnomes. He stared at it in confusion until it bellowed and took a ponderous step in his direction, his cue to run.

While the gnome-monster was slow, space was limited, and Raz found himself going in circles, running into the monster more often than not. He tried blasting it, but only managed to knock off a couple gnomes at a time; the whole creature was made of more gnomes than he had ammo for. Unsure what else to do, he kept running and hoped something would come to him as he dodged the gnomes the larger mass flung at him. Almost rabid in their attacks, the tiny humanoids would try to latch onto him and tear at his face and clothes, but they were a lot like censors and disappeared after a few solid punches.

Raz took a left and finally found a new hall. With the monster still in pursuit, he charged down it hoping it led to a solution. It turned to the right, and Raz uttered a cry as he realized it ended in an impossible heap of books, the shelf tipped over by a determined tree. Scaling the pile, he tried to make a way through only to meet disappointment as more books slid in to replace the ones he dug away. Thundering footsteps echoed behind him, and he knew he’d be in trouble if he didn’t think of something soon. Turning, he watched the conglomerate gnome lumber into view and wracked his brain for what he could do to defeat it. Shooting it didn’t work, and punching took him a little too close for comfort. There was nothing to throw at it, and even pyrokinesis would be hard to pull off. It was pretty clear to him he needed to beat it, so his non-offensive powers wouldn’t work… which left confusion. It wasn’t exactly an offensive technique either, and he didn’t use it much in combat, but at this point it was worth a shot.

Summoning a packet of the highlighter-yellow energy to his hand, he aimed carefully and lobbed it. The packet sailed in a graceful arc and exploded squarely in the hulking creature’s face and wreathed it in sickly green smoke. Wobbling drunkenly and raising a cry, the gnomes collapsed into a heap, and Raz cheered before practically dive-bombing them on his levitation ball. The confused gnomes vanished under him as he rolled through until there was only one left, trying to scramble away. Raz didn’t hesitate to hit it too though, and it reverted to the little skittery creature before fading away.

“Guess I should’ve expected something like that to happen. Now, there’s gotta be some way through here…” he said to himself, studying the heap of books a little more closely now that he didn’t have a gnome monster bearing down on him. There was still no obvious way in, and he couldn’t jump over the tangle of tree roots, so this seemed to be another puzzle. Thinking about what could be done with books, and a lot of them, Raz wondered why he’d tried digging his way through at all. Skidding down the side, he stood a safe distance away and focused. Orange flames sprung from the heap, and soon a tunnel had burned its way through, just big enough for him to crawl in. It came out into another barren hall, but this looked like a straight shot to another room.

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 7

Mystery, adventure, action! It all awaits you here. Happy reading~

Gideon kicked his legs over the side of the roof. He was still mad, but he’d given up screaming insults at the sky and had settled on plotting just what manner of revenge would befall that goggle-headed freak. Without a book to consult it was a little hard, but he’d decided to maybe try zombies again. If he could convince them a real psychic’s brain was the tastiest of them all, maybe they’d listen. And how ironic that Norman would fall to the things he liked most. He relished the thought of their screams ringing through the Shack before he’d swoop in and win Mabel’s love by saving her from the undead menace. What a shame it’d be too late for her brother…

The snap of a car door interrupted his fantasy, and he watched as his father sauntered up to the house. When he didn’t notice his son’s predicament immediately, Gideon noisily cleared his throat and folded his arms. Bud finally looked up, shock spreading on his face and soon followed by worry.

“Why sunshine, what’re y’all doin’ up there?”

“Jus’ get me down,” Gideon demanded, and his father put up his hands.

“I’ll get the ladder.”

-------- 

The room was nearly identical to the previous ones in shape, but was much larger, and while the floor was still covered in books they were in neat stacks. This place actually looked inhabited, though the tall towers of books made their own sort of forest. Raz wound through them, keeping his eyes peeled and trying not to bump into anything. At the center of the room, he could see a space cleared out and a desk piled with more books, and more importantly, a person, and not just any person, but Dipper. He was hunched over the desk and could be heard muttering a steady stream of questions and theories to himself.

“… so if he’s not involved, that rules out the pizza guy entirely. Not that he had reason to be involved in the first place, but you can never be sure. Soos said the mailman’s a werewolf, could there be something there? He could be sending secret correspondence to… somebody. Better look into it. Mark that one down for suspicious,” Dipper rambled, gnawing on the end of his pen. “Oh, but what about the time Mabel found—”

“Uh, hey,” Raz interrupted, nearly sending Dipper backwards out of his chair. He watched as he ducked under the table and brandished his pen at him while he spoke.

“Who are you?! What are you doing here?” he demanded, and Raz held up his hands disarmingly.

“I’m Raz and I’m here to help,” he answered promptly, thinking quickly about how he could make friends. “Is it just me or is there some weird stuff going on around here?”

“Listen man, you have no idea. Whatever you’ve seen, it’s got nothing on what’s actually going on. Monsters, conspiracies, codes—you name it, it’s probably here.”

“Uh, I like to think I have some idea. I’m a certified paranormal investigator, so I might be able to help.”

Dipper narrowed his eyes. “You don’t look much like a paranormal investigator, and plus, you can’t be any older than me. How the heck did you get certified? I want proof.”

Raz happily obliged. After all, how he became a Psychonaut was one of his favorite stories to tell. Unslinging his backpack, he set it on the table to show Dipper his badges while he stood opposite of him and listened skeptically to the whole strange tale unfold.

“So…” Dipper began once Raz finished his story, “you expect me to believe you befriended a mutant lungfish, stopped a megalomaniac drill sergeant, and survived losing your brain? Are you sure you’re completely sane?”

“You expect me to believe there are monsters and conspiracies in Gravity Falls,” Raz retorted, and Dipper looked at his shoes.

“Good point. I guess I can’t blame you for being a skeptic. My own great-uncle won’t believe me, and his whole business is based on mysterious stuff.”

“Heh, I kinda figured. And almost no one believed me about the death tank plot either, so I know exactly how you feel.”

“So you’re like a government agent?”

“Yep. Cool right?”

“I’ll say. It’s… kind of a dream of mine to be some kind of super-cool agent investigating the paranormal. Do you really have to be psychic to join the Psychonauts?” Dipper asked, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Sorry, it’s… pretty much the basic requirement. I’m sure you’ll get to investigate weird stuff one day though. As far as I’m concerned you’re kind of already doing it, right?”

“I guess so. When you put it like that it sounds awesome,” Dipper smiled, circling around the table to spread out his notes. “I was starting to wonder if trying to figure all this out would be worth it if no one believed me. I mean, I think lives might depend on it, but some recognition would be nice too.”

“Maybe. What exactly are you trying to find out?” Raz asked, stepping a little closer.

“The truth,” Dipper replied, with eyes taking on a wild, unfocused look, “about everything.”

“Uh… that’s a pretty lofty goal.”

“There’s gotta be a reason for all this stuff showing up in Gravity Falls. Literally nowhere else is this weird, has so much bizarre stuff just—practically bursting out of the ground. I think maybe there’s some kind of conspiracy behind it all, but what’s even worse? For some reason I think this fake psychic Gideon thinks I know what it is.”

“Don’t worry, I know all about that jerk. So you’re trying to figure everything out before he tries to do something even worse?”

“Yeah. To me… or my sister,” Dipper explained with a sigh, brow furrowed with worry. “I’ve been looking through everything I know, but I just can’t figure it out. I bet if I didn’t have this headache I’d have gotten it by now.”

“Well, Gideon’s not a problem right now. If you really know something that could get everyone out of this mess I guess we better start looking.”

“Not sure what good it’ll do. I’ve already combed through this place like three times,” Dipper said with a shrug, and Raz gave him a look.

“The whole maze, or this room?”

Dipper blinked. “There’s more than this room?”

Raz frowned. “Oh boy. Um, yeah? Look, there’s the door I just came from, and there’s another door to the right. Doors usually mean there’s more than just one room.”

“Oh man, I’ve been in here so long… I guess I forgot about everything else. What’s out there? Anything?”

“Oh, just a labyrinth of library shelves, puzzles, a monster or two…” Raz listed, and grinned. “You know. Normal adventure stuff.”

Dipper’s eyes grew wide, then he hastily tried to scoop up a few pages of notes and ran off to the door, papers floating behind him. Raz snorted and set off after him, catching up a little ways down the unexplored passage.

“Hey, give me some warning before you go charging off like that, okay? I know adventure is pretty exciting, but if anything happens to you and I’m not there to help, it could be bad for both of us,” he griped, but Dipper seemed intrigued more than anything.

“So… what happens to me happens to you too? Is that how this works?” he asked, shuffling his papers as they walked.

“Not exactly. It’s mostly just inconvenient for me, but you could get really hurt. Just stay nearby and you’ll be fine, got it?”

“I’ve dealt with plenty of monsters by myself. I think I can handle it,” Dipper replied tersely, and for a while the two fell silent. They kept to what looked like the main hall, eyes and ears open for anything suspicious. Despite the fact he had someone with him, Raz still felt like there was something watching them, and Dipper’s habit of twitching whenever he thought he saw something was starting to affect him too. It was time to do something about it, and Dipper seemed to have the same idea.

“So… real psychics can do a lot of stuff, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Raz happily replied, “and some more stuff than others. My girlfriend Lili, she can—”

“Hold on,” Dipper said, stopping abruptly. “You’re a secret agent and you already have a girlfriend?”

“Did I… not mention that when I was telling you how I became a Psychonaut?” Raz asked, raising a brow.

“No, you mentioned Lili, but not that she was your girlfriend,” Dipper replied with a frown.

“Oh. Whoops. Guess I just thought I did. Um… is there a problem?”

“Ugh, it’s—never mind,” Dipper huffed, scowling and heading off again. Raz shrugged and followed, but after a while, he couldn’t contain his curiosity any more.

“You said you fought monsters a few times. How’d you beat ‘em?”

“A lot of it actually depends on the monster. I once beat a couple of ghosts and saved all my friends by dancing, and another time, I melted a bunch of cursed wax statues,” Dipper explained, his expression lightening considerably.

“Dancing?”

“Yeah. As if things weren’t already weird enough, it’s like Gravity Falls has its own special brand of weird. I mean, there’s an old guy who lives in town that can build huge robots, but he’s just as likely to do a jig around his hat for three days straight.”

“Huh. Huge robots?”

“Yeah. He made a lake monster so convincing even I thought it was real, but it was just him trying to get his son to notice him.”

“Wow. Wonder what it’s like inside his head,” Raz mused, and his companion shrugged.

“I’m not sure I want to guess,” Dipper said with a chuckle. “Then I’ve brought a video game guy to life, made clones with a magic copier machine, and found crystals that can change the size of stuff depending on which way the light shines through them.”

“Whoa. I’m starting to see why people might not believe you,” he started, and Dipper shot him a look before he continued, “but it all sounds really amazing to me. Guess you have faced a lot of stuff; I think I know where the gnome monster I fought earlier came from now.”

“Oh man, don’t even get me started on the gnomes,” Dipper grunted, rolling his eyes. “They posed as a guy to date my sister, and at first I thought he was a zombie, but then it turned out it was just a bunch of them stacked on top of each other? Talk about messed up.”

Raz was starting to get the sense he’d arrived somewhere truly bizarre. No wonder Dipper wanted to learn all he could about this unassuming little town; there was way more going on than even a fake psychic brainwashing his enemies with psitanium. This clearly seemed to warrant further investigation, and he wanted to be the one to do it. Something to discuss with headquarters later.

“So you really think all this stuff is connected?” he asked after a bit of thought, and Dipper nodded.

“It seems far-fetched, even I’ll admit that. But… there’s just so much of it in one place! Unless the world is secretly overflowing with monsters and magic crystals and stuff that no one has ever noticed, but I don’t think that’s the case,” he replied, gesturing wildly. “I mean somehow a fake psychic, a medium, and a real psychic all manage to turn up here? And you know the guy the gnomes pretended to be, who I thought was a zombie?”

Raz nodded, not sure where this was going.

“He said his name was Norman. What does Norman—the medium—love? Zombies! And they both show up in Gravity Falls, at the Mystery Shack no less! Tell me that’s not weird,” Dipper rambled, on a roll. “And it’s just—a whole summer of stuff like that, at least it has been so far, and I can only imagine what’s going to happen next. I dunno, maybe aliens, or another coded message or something.”

The words barely had time to leave Dipper’s mouth before they stepped into another room with its floor clear and covered in the same stone tile grid Raz had encountered earlier. Like the first room, there was no obvious exit, but this time there was no furniture and the tiles were all marked with letters, a bit like a crossword puzzle but with no blank spaces to give any clues. Raz could already tell this was going to be a little trickier, but luckily Dipper was up to the challenge.

“Hmm… We probably have to enter a password of some kind. Think Dipper, what would you use as a password…” he mumbled, pacing around the room while Raz just tried random tiles to see if any could be pressed. They all refused to budge though until one marked with ‘b’ finally sank away.

“B’? Huh, not what I would’ve guessed. Okay, I might know what it is. Try all the ‘a’s you can find,” Dipper instructed after examining the tile and writing its letter down, and Raz nodded. Together they worked through the whole floor, but nothing worked.

“Um… maybe not,” Dipper said, scratching out something he’d written. “I guess just keep hitting stuff.”

And that is exactly what they did, and continued to do until thirteen tiles had all been pressed. In order, they spelled out the words “beware” and “veritas”. Like the first puzzle, a section of shelving slid into the floor to reveal the exit, and the two continued their trek through the maze. As they walked, Dipper pondered the two words, which seemed to be a phrase.

“Beware veritas? What is it, a monster? Or something else?” he muttered, mostly to himself while Raz kept an eye on their surroundings. The floor was starting to sink in some places, making footing a little less secure, and soon enough there were parts that had fallen away completely into murky gray water yards below.

“Geez, this place is a mess,” Dipper commented, peering over the edge with concern. “You sure we can cross this?”

“I can, no problem,” Raz replied. “It’s you I’m worried about. I mean, no offense, but despite all those monsters and stuff you don’t seem like the athletic type.”

“Okay, so maybe I’m not good at team sports, and I beat a lot of those creatures with my wits, but I can totally make that jump,” Dipper huffed, pointing to the next section of floor a few feet away. Tucking his notes into his vest, he took a few steps back—then a few more, just to be sure—and took a running start only to slip at the last moment, nearly sliding into the pit. Dusting himself off, he glared at Raz who was trying not to laugh and doing miserably, and tried again. This time he cleared the gap and managed to land just fine, and even jumped to the next one before reaching a chasm he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make. Raz caught up to him, still chuckling, and Dipper shot him a look.

“I’m sorry, but that was just too funny,” he explained, but his friend just rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, serious adventurers here. I could probably just lift you across with telekinesis.”

“Yeah, that should work.”

Raz hopped across first, easily making the jump, then carefully picked Dipper up. He didn’t seem too thrilled about being dangled over a watery grave, but he was deposited safely on the other side nevertheless. The rest of the hazardous terrain was fairly easy to cross, and they were past it in no time, hurrying on down the hall. After a couple turns and a sighting of one of the little centipede-lizard things, they found themselves in yet another room.

But there was plenty to set this one apart from the others. Beyond its sheer size and the number of trees growing in and around it, rather than more shelves the far wall was stone and bore a set of three concentric circles carved into it. The outermost was the largest, marked by three equidistant triangles. The inner two sat within the spans of the triangles and were divided into segments, and as Raz discovered by going up and touching it, the innermost ring rotated. All sections—the triangles and the two inner circles—were marked by various letters: the outer with apparent gibberish, the inner with the alphabet, and the triangles with ‘v’, an equal sign, and ‘y’. After a bit of study, Dipper spoke.

“It’s a decoder wheel. ‘V’ equals ‘Y’… that must be the key to whatever that outer ring says. Once we figure it out, it’ll open and we’ll find out whatever secret I know that could save us from Gideon!”

“Um, okay. Anything I can help with?”

“I’ll figure out the code if you’ll move the wheel,” Dipper instructed, sitting on the floor and taking out his papers to begin deciphering. Raz shrugged and wandered around for the time being, wondering what lay behind the wall. At one point a group of censors popped up, and Raz was happy to pummel them while Dipper did his best to ignore the commotion and keep working, until finally he had everything.

“Alright, I’ve got it! Man, my brain picks some weird passwords. I don’t know how this one relates either: ‘the beginning is the end’. Talk about coded messages, right?”

“Wait… yeah, you did predict that, didn't you? Weird,” Raz commented, and Dipper blinked, then put a hand to his forehead.

“That’s not the first thing I predicted either! Before you got here, when I found the first piece of the rock stuff Gideon used to mess with us, I saw—something about red, green, and the word ‘goggles’. Raz, I predicted you! Whoa…”

“Whoa is right,” Raz said, in awe. Not even all psychics could see the future, and he only got the occasional hunch that turned out to be right, but everyone had those. But he could see how Dipper’s curiosity to know could lead to the Psitanium granting him the ability to see beyond the norm.

“So… could these codes tie in to stuff that hasn't even happened yet?” Dipper mused quietly, and the psychic shrugged.

“Maybe. If they don’t really fit what’s actually important to you, they might. Anyway, let’s get this door unlocked.”

Dipper handed him the paper with the decoded phrase, and he glanced over it before holding it in his teeth while he spun the wheel to each letter. It moved slowly, but with each correct entry something made a clank. On the last letter, the wheel locked, and Raz leapt back as the wall vibrated. With a dull grinding sound, the whole edifice rotated until the visual triangle formed by the three smaller ones faced down, and the two center rings retracted out of sight, leaving a tunnel. The two high-fived and charged in without further ado.

...Only to meet disappointment. The tunnel opened into more bookshelf halls, and the two exchanged confused glances before proceeding with a bit less enthusiasm. It was another particularly tangled area, overgrown by brambles and snags they were careful to duck through. Raz did his best to punch or burn the overgrowth away when he could, but there was no helping going in circles a few times too many. But while it annoyed Raz, Dipper seemed lost in thought, hardly noticing they’d turned down this hall for what was possibly the third time.

“Uh… so think of anything new?” Raz finally asked, trying to stave off an oppressing silence, and Dipper looked up like he’d forgotten he had someone with him.

“Hm? Oh, not really. Just trying to make sense of it all,” he replied, gaze turning back to the ground in front of him. Raz frowned and took up being pathfinder since Dipper clearly had no idea where he was walking. Had they gone down this way yet?

No, thank goodness; the books here looked untrodden on, and he had yet to come across any scorched vegetation, so that was promising. With Dipper trailing slightly behind, he forged ahead and found another room, though it was devoid of puzzles for once. Instead it was just littered with the same junk as the rest of the labyrinth. Some desks and chairs were scattered, and a few had nearly been totally consumed by the trees that grew around them, while the floor was thick with ferns and fog. If there were secrets here, they’d be well buried, but the exit was straight ahead. If it wasn’t for Dipper stopping in his tracks Raz would have carried on without another thought. He turned and gave him an inquiring look.

“The beginning is the end. The beginning of all my adventures this summer was when I found this old book cataloguing all the weird stuff in Gravity Falls. If you think of the other ways ‘end’ can be used, it might mean it’s the ends to whatever Gideon wants!”

“Good thinking,” Raz said, smiling. “So if we give him the book, he’ll leave you guys alone?”

“Well, maybe,” Dipper grunted. “Something tells me that’d be a bad idea though. I haven’t told anyone except Mabel and Soos… and Norman. And you. About how the Journal even exists, and it explicitly states ‘trust no one’ in really big letters. But I mean, those guys are my friends, and you… are sort of inside my mind, plus you seem cool, so you can know about it. But Gideon’s…”

“Insane?”

“Yeah. I feel like he’d use the journal for something bad. Like apocalyptically bad. What if he already has the others and this is the last one he needs to destroy everything? What’ll stop him then? What if this really is the ‘truth’ he was trying to get me to talk about? I mean I knew it was a possibility, but I didn’t know if maybe he thought I knew more, and the headache was really getting to me so I couldn’t think straight. Oh man, this is way worse than I thought. What if he…”

Raz watched Dipper work himself into a panic, struck with paranoia and worry anew. And he’d been doing so well. A sound caught Raz’s attention, and he looked up to see a multitude of the lizard-centipede creatures gathered on the tops of the bookshelves like crows. Watching with their wide yellow eyes, they hissed softly, almost in anticipation.

“Uh, Dipper…” Raz trailed, backing a few paces closer to him while keeping an eye on the creatures. “Might wanna… start moving again…”

But Dipper was ignoring him. “Oh! But what if this really does go back all the way to when Gravity Falls was founded, and something was always going to happen here? I’ve… I’ve gotta find out what’s really going on, I’ve gotta warn everybody. I have to find out the truth!”

All at once, the shadow creatures surged forward. Raz crossed his arms in front of him, but they flowed around him to converge on Dipper and engulf him. The shimmery black of their skin burst into roaring blue flames, and they merged into one huge creature that was built like a bear, with long powerful forelimbs ending in sharp claws. Its head was long and low, with a long jagged mouth much like the smaller creatures had, and three flaming yellow eyes. It held an unconscious Dipper in its jaws, his collar hooked on firmly on pointy teeth, and with a roar it vaulted over the bookshelves, trailing a long stream of flames that left everything smoldering.

Raz stood agape for a moment, then struck out on his levitation orb, hoping the path ahead lead to the same place the monster was headed. Toppled and scorched trees and bookshelves told him he was going the right way, though they made it a little hard to maintain any momentum. After a bit of climbing and squeezing through, he seemed to be in the clear and raced down a long straight corridor. The smell of smoke grew increasingly stronger, and he hoped he’d get there before too much damage had been done.

The hall opened into a huge round room, and Raz quickly studied it before the beast in the center attacked him. A moat ran around the room, with little walkways connecting to sealed doors that were spaced evenly around the room like spokes on a wheel. There were shelves, but they’d been knocked down and some, as well as their contents, were on fire. It was lucky there wasn’t much more to it than that, because with another bellow and a slam to the ground, the fire beast started the fight.

Raz was grateful there was plenty of room to run as the monster spat fireballs at him, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t looking for weaknesses. The moat was something; after all, what better way to put out a fire? But he couldn’t grab the monster with telekinesis—it was just too big—so there had to be some other way of doing it. A couple of psi-blasts only seemed to anger it; he barely avoided a lashing tail strike and noted not to do that again. So maybe…

With a smirk, Raz faced the beast, took aim, and lobbed a confusion grenade at its face. It screeched, sitting back on its haunches as it tried to wave the dizzying cloud away and dropping Dipper in the process. Seeing an opening, Raz darted in and grabbed his friend, who still wasn’t totally lucid and mumbled nonsense under his breath while he was carried to safety. Raz sat him just inside the entrance, briefly wondered what “Disco Girl” was, then turned back to deal with the monster. It was still sitting and wobbling back and forth, moaning, and glancing around, Raz realized he could throw the fallen bookshelves at it. Hurling one at it, he smacked the creature right in the face, and while the shelf vaporized, it also sent the creature reeling backwards—right into the moat. Steam erupted and the creature screamed, clawing its way back onto dry land and shaking itself out before lunging with claws outstretched. The blow shook the room, and though it missed Raz he nearly lost his balance trying to escape the impact. Now that he knew what to do though, and with Dipper out of harm’s way, he wasn’t so worried.

He was about to send another confusion grenade into the creature’s face when it seemed to pause and back up. Raz squinted as its eyes glowed a blinding white, and suddenly a beam of light shot through him, sending him to the floor. He lay there for a moment, enlightened to the fact that most of the campers at Whispering Rock hadn’t actually liked him and weren’t his friends that first day like he’d thought. That, and a good chunk of his mental presence was gone. Rolling to his feet once more, he fixed the beast with a glare.

“I get it. The truth hurts.”

The beast screeched in reply and spat another series of fireballs at him, which were easy enough to avoid but kept him from getting a fix to be able to hit it with confusion. An opening finally presented itself though, and he wasted no time in hitting it with the grenade-bookshelf combo again, then repeated the process a third time. With each trip into the moat the creature’s flaming body grew smaller until it was maybe half the size it had started out at, giving Raz a good idea of how much more it’d take to beat it. It tried firing the truth beam again, but this time Raz expected it and shielded himself, the light bouncing off his protective aura harmlessly. A few more trips into the moat and the creature was maybe the size of a pony, small and white-hot, and though not as powerful it was faster. Raz had to be even more on guard as the monster took to darting around the remaining bookshelves to avoid him and launch its own attacks more quickly. Raz was hit by another truth beam and enjoyed the realization that even if his dad had always loved him and just wanted him to be safe, he’d still been distant and authoritarian.

“I wish these weren’t so personal, ugh,” Raz muttered, massaging his arm where he’d been hit and trying to get a lock on the beast to hit it with a final round of confusion. The creature leapt forward to attack him directly, and he saw his chance. The fire beast writhed as the green cloud engulfed it, its fiery body roiling and distorting before bursting out in a final supernova.

Raz blinked spots from his eyes and shook his head out. He was sitting with his back to a bookshelf, and though he felt a little shaken he was otherwise okay. A shadow passed over him and he looked up to find it was Dipper offering him a hand. He gladly took it, and together they stood and stared at a small white flame that burned about two feet off the ground, right in the center of the room. Glancing at it, they cautiously approached it, and after a moment, Dipper brazenly stuck a hand through it.

“Huh, doesn’t burn or anything,” he commented, waving his hand through it again. “What do you think it means?”

“Well, I’m not an expert—well, not like some people I know anyway, but… If I had to guess, I’d say it was… your desire to learn things?”

“Maybe. Makes sense to me. Anyway, what should we do about Gideon? I’m not about to give him the Journal, and you’re good at strategy too. So what do you think? …Raz?”

Dipper looked up to find he was alone.

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 8

Continuing on, you're in for plenty more action as things start to wrap up. :3

It took about two seconds for Norman to realize the loud thump that had woken him up wasn’t Mabel falling out of bed again. No, that powder blue suit and the darker form prone on the floor next to it immediately ruled that out. Gideon had gotten in. He wanted to move, shout, anything, but instinct kept him frozen as he watched him plunder Raz’s backpack. The psychic was twisted awkwardly onto his front, not seated like he’d been before, and it wasn’t hard to imagine how he’d come to rest this way. Gideon chuckled to himself as he found what he was looking for, and turned to leave. Doing the only thing he could think of, Norman leapt and raced to the door, arms spread wide in an attempt to prevent Gideon’s passage.

“Outta my way, witch boy!” Gideon snarled, but Norman returned the sneer.

“No! You’ve caused too much trouble to just let you go! And Aggie wasn’t a witch and neither am I,” he said, fuming now.

“I beg to differ. You have power beyond even your own understandin’. With you I could bring this town to its knees and then some! I almost had you too, you don’t think I can do it again?” Gideon replied with a wicked grin, withdrawing both amulet and psitanium from his pockets and advancing on him. Norman shrank against the door, then found his resolve and launched himself at his tormentor. If he was going down, it’d be with a fight, but he never got the chance.

Mabel woke to the commotion just in time to see Norman flung against a wall and a pale blue blur vanish down the stairs with a terrible cackle. Leaping from her bed, she tried to give chase but tripped over the psychic still sprawled on the floor. Norman hurried over to help despite nursing his own bruises, and together they turned Raz over to try and rouse him. Luckily the movement alone seemed enough—he stirred with a groan and fumbled with his goggles before Mabel lent him a hand.

“Ah… ow,” he winced, sitting up and gingerly feeling out the back of his head. “What… what am I doing here?”

“Weren't you helping Dipper with his crazy?” Mabel grinned, and Raz squinted at her.

“Yeah, but I should still be…. Wait, did someone hit me?” He glanced around frowning, and the two exchanged looks before nodding and replying together.

“Gideon.”

“He—okay, not only did he get in, he hit me while I was projecting?” Raz said incredulously, putting a hand to his face in disbelief. “He hit me while—does he have any idea what could’ve happened to me?!”

“That jerkface probably wouldn't even care,” Mabel huffed, “and he got away.”

“With… his stuff. He still wants to use me to hurt people,” Norman added somberly, and received a sympathetic pat from Mabel while Raz scowled.

“Okay. Now he’s gonna wish what could’ve happened did.”

“Is Dipper gonna be okay? It probably wasn’t good for him you got clobbered either, right?” Mabel asked, looking worriedly over to her brother, who was still out cold.

“I’m not sure. I think we were pretty much done though, so he should be alright. I might go back and check later though just to be sure.”

“Hmm… then can I do… this?!” She reached out and began tickling her sibling, eliciting a startled yell as he sat bolt upright, arms flailing to ward off his attacker. Mabel squealed happily and wrapped her brother in one of her infamously tight hugs. He started to protest, complaining about looking uncool in front of his friends, but she let go before he could finish. She leapt to her feet and struck a pose.

“Okay boys! Gideon’s gotta pay! Let’s get that stuff back before he can do more evilly-plotty things with it! Dipper, see if there’s anything in the Book that can help. Raz, you’re in charge of all things psychic-y like helping me find my grappling hook. Norman, uh… summon the ghosts?”

“But I can’t—”

“We’ll figure it out. Move people!”

Despite general exhaustion from their ordeal and the blows more recently dealt by their enemy, with Mabel as cheerleader the four got to work. Rest could come later—they’d already been out of commission long enough. If Gideon was plotting anew they had to be just as cunning, ready for whatever he had in store. Once everything was in order, they charged downstairs and discovered how Gideon had managed to get in—Soos was dozing in front of a TV with the volume turned up. At least nothing more had happened to him.

“Man, I ask him to guard the place and he falls asleep?” Raz sighed, and she elbowed him hard in the side.

“No talking about Soos like that! Come on!”

“Okay, okay! But I’m still gonna talk to him later.”

They left the handyman to his nap; every moment they dawdled was a moment Gideon got to plot. Venturing outside, they couldn’t find any sign of the little pest—at least until Dipper spotted a swath of destruction leading into the forest. Bushes were flattened and trees pushed aside like something much larger had bowled through. No doubt Gideon had used the amulet to force his way in either his haste to escape or as part of a trap. There was no way to tell from here, and knowing his penchant for gloating, even if it was a trap it’d be the easiest way to find him, so down the path of destruction it was.

The trail narrowed the further on they went, and Raz felt a growing sense of déjà vu as the trees closed in and cast the undergrowth in a dull green gloom. Though Dipper’s mindscape was clearly not entirely imagined, he hoped the likelihood of monster encounters was. But their main concern was the trail, and not only did it narrow, it vanished completely once the group entered a small clearing.

“Great. Now what?” Raz asked, folding his arms.

“You’re psychic, can’t you maybe… see where he is right now, or something like that?” Dipper replied, and he shrugged.

“Maybe if I had something of his. I still have to do a lot of training before I can find people just by thinking about them—well, ones I haven’t already made a link to anyway.”

“Then we need a different plan.”

“Dipper, you’re not gonna make one of those crazy-complicated list things again are you?”

“What? No, there’s no time for that. Fan out, there might be tracks we can’t see somewhere. Yell if you see anything suspicious.”

They poked around in the underbrush but turned up nothing. It was like Gideon hadn’t come this way at all, and they’d picked up a false trail instead and gotten lost. The group exchanged uncertain looks before turning to scan the forest anxiously. Maybe this was a trap? It just seemed so… quiet.

Mabel yelled as she was lifted into the air by an unseen force while trees crashed down around the boys. Raz did his best to either bash the heavy boughs away or directly shield his friends while Gideon cackled somewhere nearby, hidden in the thick brush. Sensing his friends were alright for now, the psychic descended on the undergrowth, throwing punches blindly until he was rewarded with a startled cry. But a wall of sheer telekinetic power crashed into him and sent him into the leaf litter, winding him as Gideon made his escape once more. In the newly expanded clearing, Dipper and Norman helped untangle Mabel from the bush she’d fallen into. It’d cushioned the drop when Raz’s punching had rattled Gideon’s hold on her, but not without ensnaring itself in her hair, and together all three worked to free her. They succeeded just as Raz emerged from the forest, and for a moment they regrouped.

“Okay, I don’t think he’s always been this strong,” the psychic panted, still recovering from the attack.

“That doesn't make any sense. How can he be stronger? That rock stuff should be affecting him too right?” Dipper said, and Raz frowned.

“It’s called psitanium, and that’s what you would think, especially since he’s not a real psychic…. But he’s still getting boosted as if he was…”

“Boosted? What?”

“Yeah—psitanium isn't good for regular people, but it actually helps psychics a lot. Maybe that amulet is protecting him from the bad effects and giving him the good.”

“If that’s the case, we better get going.”

No argument there, so they headed off once more down the newly formed path at full speed, hoping to catch up with the monster of a child. This time, it remained clear all the way to a rock outcrop that rose from the valley floor and continued into the mountains that surrounded Gravity Falls. Weaving around weathered boulders that grew in size as they went on, the trail continued into a v-shaped ravine that split the rock face in two. It was in there they found Gideon standing on a ledge some fifteen feet above their heads, waiting for them with both amulet and psitanium at the ready.

“Well, here we are. It seems you’ve cornered me,” he moaned with false disappointment. No one was impressed by his acting.

“Give it up, Gideon! You’re not defenseless, but neither are we!” Dipper yelled, but the fake psychic tutted.

“Dipper Pines, always the confident one. Who said anythin’ about needin’ defenses? I think we can do things amicably, don’t you?”

“For one, you swore vengeance on our whole family. So no, I don’t think we can,” Dipper replied, glaring and folding his arms as their enemy shook his head.

“Look, I don’t know everything that happened between you guys,” Raz cut in, “but you bought stolen goods on the black market, used it to drive three people insane, and assaulted a government agent. Hand the psitanium and amulet over and I promise I won’t beat you into a pulp for that.”

“Government…. When’d I do that?” Gideon asked, genuinely confused before he regained control of the conversation. “Nevermind! I’ll do it as long as I get somethin’ in return, somethin’ I’ve been wantin’ for far too long.”

“The deal was that you don’t get beat up in exchange,” Raz shot, narrowing his eyes as he clenched a fist.

“Can we uh, not beat anyone up?” Norman put forward, and the others looked at him skeptically. He pulled a face, then looked up at Gideon with what seemed to be determination. “What do you want so badly you’d hurt people to get? So badly… you’d make me hurt some of the best friends I’ve ever had just to get it?”

“Why,” Gideon chuckled, “y’all haven’t figured it out yet?”

“I told you I’m not gonna date you again!” Mabel cried, and for a moment their enemy looked sad.

“I know that, darlin’… but there’s more than that! I want power, in all its forms! This amulet, Norman, anything—but especially what secrets the Mystery Shack contains! And I’ll have it too, no matter who stands in my way.”

The twins exchanged looks and burst out laughing. Gideon spluttered orders to know what was so funny while Raz and Norman silently wondered the same. It was Mabel who finally put them out of their misery.

“Oh man, you don’t seriously think there’s some magicky ‘thing of all power’ in there do you?”

“Have you even been in the Shack? It’s got nothing but dust and hoaxes, and maybe one legitimate oddity in the whole building!” Dipper added with a chuckle.

“Lies! I know there’s somethin’ in there, and you’re gonna give it to me!” Gideon shrieked. Raz scoffed and let his arms drop from where they’d been folded on his chest.

“Look, we’re not getting anywhere like this. Just hand the stuff over already!”

“Never!”

“Then you asked for this!” Raz shouted as he charged forward, aiming to vault up the rugged sides of the canyon. Something caught his boot and sent him face-first into the leaf mold before he could even make the first jump though, and then found himself hoisted upside-down by the ankle to Gideon’s side. Once in a telekinetic hold it was very hard to break free, even for a strong psychic like him, but regardless he struggled against the poser’s grip until a blanket of energy restrained him. The pricking sensation at the edges of his mind made a return as Gideon tried to get in once more, to no avail even with a two-pound chunk of psitanium aiding him. At least that would reassure his friends, whose collective worry was quite easy to sense.

“Heh, nice try, but even top-level Psychonauts could get into my head, and that was before I had any training. So you’re not getting in.” He folded his arms and gave the most smug grin he could muster. Gideon’s face burnt red as he howled in rage and flung Raz into the trees above—not that he had any problems with that either. Latching onto a bough, he used his momentum to twist around it and right himself before giving his friends below a wave, which only seemed to infuriate Gideon more.

“Fine! Take your thick-headed circus freak back. I know somethin’ else I can do!” he cried, beady eyes resting on Norman.

A pop rang out, and Gideon’s carefully sculpted pompadour was interrupted by a craftily aimed grappling hook. He practically screeched while he wrestled with the tines now lodged in untold layers of hairspray, any thoughts of wrongdoing postponed by his vanity. Dipper patted his sister on the back; the satisfied grin on her face said it all. Using the distraction, Raz leapt from the tree, landed safely, and vanished before Gideon could react. If he’d been smarter maybe he’d have done it this way in the first place, but no time for second-guessing now. Only a few more steps, and he’d be able to snatch the amulet. Gideon was still struggling with the hook, so if he was quick this would all be over in just a—okay, maybe in a few more seconds. He was forced to wait as his target turned away, almost free now.

“Mabel, why don’t you retract it already?” Dipper urged quietly, and she frowned, hugging the grappling hook a little closer.

“I know he’s an evil jerk and all, but I don’t wanna pull him to his death or anything.”

“I bet Raz can catch him, and besides, if you don’t, Norman’s gonna be toast!”

“Don’t… don’t say it like that,” Norman interjected, giving his friend a withering look. Dipper grimaced—he hadn’t been thinking. There’d be time to apologize later.

Back on the ledge, Raz still hadn't spotted an opening, and his energy was wearing thin. Maybe stealth just wasn’t his thing, but hesitating to do what was right wasn’t either. As Gideon finally rid himself of the hook, Raz dropped his invisibility and lunged for the amulet. His fingers brushed the turquoise stone for an instant before Gideon’s reflexive jump back took it out of reach. For a moment they almost danced, trying to predict the other’s next move and faking his own before Raz lunged in again. His feet were pulled out from under him, and though he caught the edge before he could tumble over, it was not his voice that cried out as Gideon pressed a polished shoe to his fingers, an entirely unpleasant grin spread across his features.

“An’ t’ think I was nearly outwitted. You’ve given me no other recourse but t’ do this!” His gaze shifted to the group, and Raz twisted so see what the situation was. He’d be lying to himself if he’d said he was surprised to see Norman suspended over the twins and looking distressed. Unable to run or fight, it seemed he’d simply given up—his shoulders sagged, arms limp at his sides as he waited for whatever Gideon would inflict on him. Raz did his best to send him some positive wavelengths before turning to deal with the enemy.

But Gideon was in charge, and wasn't about to let that change. Noticing Raz’s determined glare, he picked the psychic up again and pulled both he and Norman over to where he stood, unleashing a wicked chuckle that bounced on the ravine walls and did nothing for anyone’s nerves. As far as he was concerned, the two most dangerous people in the group were in his control, and there was nothing the Pines could do about it. Oh, they’d tried—Mabel’s little grappling hook stunt had certainly been innovative, but he was expecting it now, and he doubted Dipper had anything like that up his sleeve.

“So now that I have your most threatening allies in my thrall… how about we take a look at the Shack, shall we?” he cooed. “Or do ya need more encouragement?”

“Gideon… you know this is wrong,” Norman pleaded, apparently finding the courage to speak. “I don’t know why you want all this, but there’s gotta be a better way than hurting people to get it.”

“When you find it, you tell me, ghost boy,” Gideon snarled, “Now enough o’ that sentimental stuff. Artifacts of ultimate power, now.”

Dipper sighed; after all their efforts they were still at a standoff. Actually, it seemed they’d made things worse—at least earlier Gideon hadn’t had any hostages. That amulet, plus the power it drew from the psitanium, made pretty much anything he thought of impossible. They had to get him with his guard down, but when would that happen? They’d tangled enough times now to know Gideon would be suspicious of anything. The only thing that might pacify him for the time being was tucked into his vest, and while he didn't want to give that up just yet, it might be the only thing that could save them.

Don’t do it.

Raz’s voice echoed in his head, and he gave the psychic a confused look. While he was in Gideon’s hold, he appeared to be meditating, though he opened his eyes long enough to give the Pines a wink that went unnoticed by their enemy. It seemed he had a plan, something Dipper was more than okay with as he was drawing a blank.

Can you distract him? I’ve gotta talk to Norman for a bit.

“Yeah,” Dipper answered, though no one but Raz knew exactly who he was talking to. “Yeah, we’ll take you to the Shack. Come on.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Gideon said with a grin, floating himself down to the ravine floor and strolling over leisurely.

“What are you doing?” Mabel said in a panicked whisper, and her brother gave her a nudge.

“It’s okay, Raz’s got us covered… at least I think he does. Let’s split up.”

She nodded, a spark returning to her eyes. They waited for Gideon to join them, then headed for the entrance—and charged off in opposite directions with a joint laugh, forcing Gideon to choose one to chase.

Watching them disappear into the undergrowth, he muttered insults, not caring if their friends heard him or not. They weren’t really people in his eyes anyway, merely the means to an end—tools. Puffing with rage, he eventually chose to go after Dipper, the one who might actually know something useful. He’d find Mabel and rescue her from these woods once he’d dealt with him.

On the extrasensory side of things, Raz was hard at work. They weren’t as well-developed as his, and still not at full strength, but Norman’s mental walls were impressively tough. Working through them was slow, and he hoped Dipper was good at evasion; otherwise he might not get a chance to put his plan into action. When he did make it through, he barely took a moment to note he was on the far edge of the ghost town and that the scenery was much more cheerful before calling Norman.

“Yeah? Wait, what are you doing here?” the medium answered promptly, appearing just behind Raz’s shoulder. He certainly was attentive, Raz gave him that, but the appearing out of nowhere was… kinda unsettling. Though why that was a surprise knowing his background in horror movies, Raz wasn’t sure.

“Okay, we've gotta work together on this one. I did some investigating, and that amulet’s aura isn’t regular psychic energy. It’s a lot… harsher, I guess is the best way to describe it, especially beefed up on psitanium. It means I can’t do a whole lot when we’re wrapped up in it like this—I can’t even set him on fire,” Raz explained, and Norman gave him a bemused look.

“So… what do I do?”

“Okay, this is gonna be one of those things that sounds like a really bad idea, but I think it’ll work.”

“That’s not encouraging.”

“I know, but hear me out. Psitanium eventually runs out of energy, and guess who’s been using it a lot? Well, I can tap into it too, even though the amulet’s taking most of it right now. I can change that once I’ve got a hold on it, so that’s not really a problem.”

“Well, that’s good. But… there’s more, isn‘t there?”

“Yeah. I can’t use enough of the psitanium’s energy to wear it out on my own, so… I’m gonna need a partner. Don’t worry!” He gave a start, staving off the worry that flashed across Norman’s face. “This isn’t—it won’t be like before. I’m gonna use a trick I learned from my dad, sorta.” He flashed a grin at the medium, who was still staring at him warily.

“What are you even saying?”

“This might sound a little crazy, but I’m gonna siphon off the psitanium energy right? But then, the cool part is that I’m gonna give that energy to you and help you channel it without any of the bad side effects. I could feel it when I got hit; your energy is different from mine—like really different—so it should break through. Got it?”

“Wait, so…. But…. No way! That whole thing is bad! It’s losing control, it’s—” Norman struggled to find the right words, and Raz put a hand on his shoulder. He calmed down a bit, but still looked betrayed. “It’s forgetting who you are… and it hurts. A lot.”

“I know that’s what it was before, and I’d never ask you to go through that again. But otherwise we’re stuck with Gideon, and I don’t think he’s gonna ask.”

Norman thought for a while before giving a small nod, looking to the town. “I think… he’d kill me just to get what he wants out of me. And then it might not even—I’d never want to—”

“Let’s not think about that,” Raz interrupted, “Try to focus on right now. Dipper and Mabel can only keep him busy for so long before it‘s up to us. Think you can do it?”

“Can you promise… I’m not gonna lose myself?” Norman said, looking up and giving the psychic a piercing gaze.

“…Yeah,” he replied, holding out his hand with a smile, and they shook on it. “I didn’t promise this was going be easy though, so bear with me. And look out for censors—I’m gonna have to stay in here, and they‘re not going to like that.”

Norman nodded again, and watched as Raz shut his eyes in concentration before turning to keep an eye on the town. He steeled his nerves for whatever might happen, reasoning with himself that it was this way or something far worse, that he wouldn’t be alone this time and he’d be doing something good. And if these abilities ran in the family… then they were part of him too, just like everything else, and he’d accepted that. There’d be time to truly come to terms with it later, but right now, his friends were what was important.

“Okay, Gideon’s still chasing after the twins—he doesn't suspect anything. Ready?”

“I… I guess so.”

“Don’t worry Norman—when I’m not on missions like this, I help other psychic kids with their powers at a summer camp. I’ll help direct the energy where it needs to go, so you’ll be fine.”

“I really hope you’re right.”

-------- 

Dipper had stopped to catch his breath between the massive roots of a redwood and tried to shake the sense of déjà vu while getting his bearings. Hopefully whatever Raz had planned wouldn’t take much longer—he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep running. He heart leapt as rustling suddenly came from the bushes nearby, and he ducked behind one of the larger gnarls, squeezing into the smallest shape possible. He’d lost Gideon somewhere a while ago, but without bothering to cover his tracks he was probably easy to follow. As footsteps approached, his only wish was that Mabel had gotten away.

“Hey bro, it’s me.” A hand came down and ruffled his head, and he looked up to see his sister peering over the top of the root, much to his relief.

“Any sign of Gideon? If Raz’s plan had worked I think we’d have seen them by now.”

“Uh-uh,” Mabel replied sadly, and he stroked his chin.

“Then we've gotta find him somehow, but I think I know what we can do to trip him up.”

“I think I know where this is going, and I like it.”

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Finale

Yep, it's the end, but only of this particular tale. Hope you've enjoyed everything so far, and thank you for reading!

“Whew, gotta take a breather,” Gideon panted to himself, leaning against a tree with his free hand. The other was getting tired after being curled around the amulet for so long, so he quickly switched, careful not to release his aces in doing so. He was pleased both had kept quiet the whole way; while Norman was tolerable if an idealist, the psychic had a voice that grated on his ears no matter what, and noisy hostages were annoying anyway.

“Now to find those Pines brats,” he muttered once he’d sufficiently recovered; that fool Dipper had left a trail plain as day even as the sun sank low, the sky orange and soon to fade darker. And only a fool got lost in the woods at night. Rustling ahead made him quicken his pace; surely he was close now, and then that boy wouldn‘t know what hit him.

Mabel lay in wait while Dipper acted as bait and made the brush move, drawing their foe right where they wanted him. Her grip tightened around the molded handle of the grappling hook, waiting to pull the line taut when he passed by, and there were only a few yards left. Hopefully their captured friends wouldn‘t mind a bit of a drop once Gideon let them go. Good thing there was plenty of fluffy-looking bushes and other woodland plants to cushion them. Squinting, she tried to make them out from her hiding place and couldn’t help but think they reminded her of balloons being toted just below the branches. Hopefully Raz wasn’t reading her mind right now. He did look pretty calm for a hostage, floating with eyes closed and legs crossed as though this was a regular thing for him. Norman looked more resolute than anything, his brows lowered and fists balled, but at least he seemed okay.

So when the first flickers of lightning streaked through him, Mabel felt heartsick. How could he be going through all of that—the nightmares, the terrible emotions—again? Dipper broke cover entirely and seemed dumbstruck, but Gideon was too concerned with his key bargaining chip suddenly igniting to notice. Taking several steps back as the lightning intensified, he brandished the amulet, waving it pathetically at the medium as he hollered commands.

“I didn't tell ya t’ do that! You obey me! Stop it this instant or you’ll get what’s comin’ to ya, you freak a’ nature!

There was no answer. The twins traded worried glances, but then it dawned on them that it wasn’t rage but intense focus that twisted Norman’s face as he struggled to channel the electricity. Gideon would have to try harder to break him, and it seemed that was what he went for. After dodging a few near-misses, he whirled around to face his would-be minion and drew as much power as he could from the psitanium to perform what he had planned.

The stone faded to a dull violet instead of lending its strength.

He had a moment to stare at it before Norman hit his mark and the amulet was shot from his hand. The two captives dropped, vanishing into a bank of ferns while Gideon scurried for his tie, which had bounced into the leaf litter somewhere. It also took him conveniently close to the grappling hook line. Darting to his sister’s side, Dipper grabbed the rope, and they hauled on it together as their rival crossed. Gideon stumbled and landed face-first in the dirt—their plan couldn’t have worked better if they’d asked. Jumping up from the hiding spot, Mabel sat on Gideon to restrain him while Dipper searched for the amulet and uttered a triumphant laugh when he found it tucked under a rotten log. There was no easy place to smash it here, so he tucked the sinister object into an inner pocket where Gideon would be hard pressed to reach it.

Raz helped pull Norman out of the ferns and assessed the situation while the medium caught his breath, bent with hands on his knees. Even with the psychic’s help, controlling that much power had drained him; all he wanted to do now was go home and sleep, and he even decided the ‘go home’ part was optional, but they weren’t quite done yet. Raz approached where despite feeble kicks and whining pleas Gideon’d had no success in shaking Mabel off, and gave her a thumbs-up before lifting their foe by his collar once she’d hopped up.

“If it was up to me you’d never see the light of day again, but I think my superiors are gonna want to talk to you first,” Raz huffed, and Gideon laughed in his face.

“You’re the government agent? What kind of fool do you take me for? You must be stupid if y’ think I’ll listen to you.”

“You know, you really shouldn't argue with the guy who can set your hair on fire just by thinking about it,” Raz retorted, and Dipper cleared his throat to interrupt.

“That’s great, but can we get home now? Norman looks like a zombie.”

“Kinda feel like one too,” he added, managing a grin.

“Ahh! And we’re out of ammo! Quick, throw Gideon to him so we can escape!” Mabel teased, and despite everything they’d been through the group managed to share a laugh while the one responsible for their troubles could do nothing but seethe. Once the grappling hook and the inactive psitanium had been collected, they headed back through the twilit woods, using a combination of the paths they’d already left and Raz’s excellent memory to navigate. Besides the occasional grumble from Gideon, the walk was almost pleasant. The lights they spotted finally poking through the trees spilled out from the Mystery Shack and beckoned them in. But something else got their attention first.

“Aw yeah!” Raz cheered; a sleek private jet with the Psychonauts insignia was a welcome sight, parked as it was in the clearing adjacent to the tourist trap. “This is awesome! We took care of the bad guy, and you get to meet my mentors! Well, one of them anyway—looks like it’s just Sasha.”

“His name is Sasha?” Dipper said skeptically, indicating the imposing figure who stood waiting for them just in front of the plane.

“Yeah, what else would it be?”

Dipper frowned but didn't reply. They were about to meet someone obviously Raz looked up to, and that meant he was probably a great psychic too. Hopefully he hadn’t been thinking too loud just then; talk about embarrassing. They hurried up the dark-clad man, Raz eager to report while the others were curious to meet another psychic.

 “It’s good to see you all up and about,” Sasha said as the kids gathered around him, a rare smile on his face. “From what Razputin told me you were all facing some very serious mental trauma. And Mabel, negative eight.”

“Whoa…” she gasped, then grinned; while Dipper had been hoping he wouldn't read his mind, Mabel had wanted him to from the start. No one but a real psychic could guess the number she was thinking of and her name.

“So this child is the cause of the problem?” Sasha approached Gideon, who was still suspended a couple feet off the ground. “Ach, I can already feel his anger. Young man, explain yourself.”

“Well y’ see, I was simply tryin’ t’—”

“I can sense you lying, you know.”

Unable to worm his way out with words and unwilling to admit any wrongdoing, Gideon clammed up and glared at the ground.

“I’m afraid the museum this was from is going to have to find another piece of psitanium, or just be happy with one tiny piece. The only way I could get the rest of it back was if Gideon didn’t have a use for it anymore,” Raz sighed before he handed the darkened stone and smaller chunk over, and Sasha took hold of Gideon as well.

“You did what was most beneficial to you and your friends. The museum had it for a nearby university to study. If they truly need data, the Psychonauts are more than capable of providing it. You managed to save a portion, and perhaps even inert psitanium can still be of use to them. The important thing is that you once again performed beyond the task assigned.”

“Thanks Sasha,” Raz said, reassured. “So what are we gonna do with Gideon? Lock him up? Or can we fix his brain, because I think he seriously needs it.” The others agreed wholeheartedly.

“Well, it’s against guidelines to imprison him, and while it may be beneficial to ‘fix’ his brain, as you so eloquently put it, he does not appear to have extenuating circumstances as your friends did. Is he always such an active threat?”

“Well… not really,” Dipper replied, looking to his sister who also shrugged. “Unless he’s got that amulet he’s never been much of a problem—not one we couldn‘t handle anyway.”

“I see. An amulet? Do you still have it?”

“Yeah.” He handed the tie over, and the scientist examined it curiously.

“Fascinating. I’m not familiar with the stone, but it clearly has some kind of psychic presence. Do you know its provenance? No? Well, I’ll run some tests and ensure it is contained. As for Gideon…” he trailed, tucking the amulet into his pocket while he thought.

“Agent Nein, if I may make a suggestion?”

“Yes, Razputin?”

“If I stick around or visit once and a while, I could keep an eye on Gideon. But there’s also a lot more going on in Gravity Falls than this, and I want to investigate. Dipper’s already been looking into it for a while, but something tells me he could use backup. Lili’s going to want to come too, if that’s okay.”

“I can’t mention the specifics but Gravity Falls has been on our list. You’re not needed at camp immediately, so I think you could stay for a few days; I’ll run it by Cruller when I return to base.”

“Isn't Grunkle Stan gonna be mad if another random kid shows up at the Shack? He didn’t like Norman so much at first…” Mabel said, poking her fingers together.

“He’d probably make him do his own psychic show, or hold séances with Norman just to draw more people in,” Dipper said with a half-hearted laugh, and Mabel nodded.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Sasha said, something like a sly grin at the corners of his mouth. “Come, let’s go inside. You all need rest, and it seems I have much to discuss with your guardian.”

“What about me?” Gideon piped up, putting on his best innocent look. “I’ll—I’ll make a deal.”

“We’ll talk once I've finished here. You will wait in the jet for now, and I will know if you touch anything, much less break it. And if you are able to purchase a rare meteorite on the black market, I’ll assume you can also pay for any damages. Understood?” Sasha said, voice taking on an intimidating tone as he addressed the troublemaker, stern face and unreadable glasses only adding to the effect. Gideon nodded, eyes wide. Satisfied he’d made an impression, Sasha lifted him into the jet and sealed the door, then turned to the kids and clasped his hands together. “Now that he’s out of the way—care to show me in?”

“Right this way, Mr. Nein! We’ve got ya covered. So why are you called ‘nein’? Are you like, the ninth Psycho-guy ever? Whoa, does that mean Raz has a number for a last name too?” Mabel asked, and Dipper covered his face.

“Uh… no. It’s German,” Sasha replied patiently.

“And mine’s Aquato, to clarify,” Raz added as they headed up the Shack’s stairs to the gift shop. They found the door was locked, but once Dipper knocked it was nearly ripped from its hinges as Soos rushed to open it and scooped them up in a bear hug—even Raz got caught in it, though Sasha managed to sidestep the handyman’s reach. Holding back tears he tried to apologize for falling asleep on watch, but Mabel shushed his blubbering and they agreed to talk about it later.

“Who’s at the door?” Stan shouted from the living room.

“It’s the kids, Mr. Pines, and a mysterious stranger,” Soos promptly replied, and they heard what seemed to be muffled swearing.

“How important is he?”

“Very,” Sasha answered for himself. “I have a proposal for you, Mr. Pines. I’d like to discuss it now if you’re willing.”

“A proposal? If it doesn’t involve money I’m not interested.”

“It could. Or I could just leave and you wouldn’t get anything either way,” he reasoned, and passed the kids a knowing smile. He’d dealt with enough shady underground types to know just how to push Stan’s buttons, no psychic powers needed—though they certainly helped. A frustrated growl and the sound of footsteps stomping through elsewhere in the house seemed to indicate Stan was getting himself decent before making an appearance. Soos waved them in out of the bugs, and Mabel promptly flopped on the floor.

“Mystery Shack, how I've missed your splintery floors and musty smell.”

Stan finally entered, paused to acknowledge the Mabel on the floor, then greeted Sasha in his most businessman-like manner, suggesting they take things to the office. This left the kids to relate their stories to Soos to pass the time, as no doubt the two men would be at it for a while. They were enthralled as Raz related his adventures through the others’ mindscapes, then all took turns describing what happened once everyone was back and actively involved in the tale.

“Makes me wonder what Gideon’s mind looks like,” Soos wondered when they’d finished. “Lil’ dude’s probably got some majorly twisted stuff in there.”

“I wanna know too, but unless they okay psychic testing on him we’ll probably never know,” Raz answered with a shrug. “Like I said, it’s usually illegal.”

“Fair enough.”

It was decided that they should all go to bed whether Sasha and Stan finished their discussion or not; if they weren't talking the twins were nodding off and Norman couldn't keep his eyes open. But the door to the office clattered open and Sasha stepped out, soon followed by their caretaker. They waited expectantly for the announcement—what deal had the agent made with the con man?

“Mr. Pines has agreed to host you, Razputin. He will receive a stipend to cover housing you, what would normally be considered travel fees for an extended mission. I expect you to return to camp when asked, but you are free to come and go as you like. Understand?”

“Yes, Agent Nein. Do I have to do any paperwork, or reports or something? That stuff’s boring.”

“We've been over how it is necessary to document your activities,” Sasha wearily sighed, “but for this situation, only if you find something interesting.”

“There should be plenty,” Dipper said, and Raz shot him a look. Paperwork was not something he enjoyed.

“Now, I must go deal with Gideon. Pines family, Norman, Jesús—it was a pleasure meeting you; we’ll be in contact. Good evening.”

“See ya!” The kids waved farewell, then noticed the awestruck Soos.

“He… he guessed my name!” he gasped, watching the tall fellow walk back to the plane. “Raz, you know some cool dudes.”

“’Cause I am one,” he replied with a smirk, and they all chuckled.

“So if you guys are gonna go investigate stuff around town, guess I gotta call you the Mystery Kids, since y’know, you’re not all twins huh?”

“If you squint, Raz and Norman could be related,” Mabel said, doing just that. The two in question looked at each other skeptically.

“No.”

“Yeah, the hair’s a dead giveaway.”

“Did you really—”

“Yes.”

“So Mystery Kids?” Soos smiled, holding out a fist.

Dipper glanced around at his friends, then met Soos’—and everyone else’s—outstretched knuckles in a collective fist bump. “Yeah. I like the sound of that.”

It is done.

All edits have been made.

All posts have been amended.

Which means you should definitely read my fic again, or if you haven't and need some Mystery Kids fanfiction in your life, you should! It even has a title now-- Mystery Kids: Beginnings.

I know, I know, not super original or catchy.

But considering it had no title before, this is an improvement. I'll be posting art for it soon, and there's a good bit of it too, and then it's on to working on sequels and side-fics at last~!

I hope you guys are ready for some art.

'Cause I'm ready to share some! Get ready for the behind-the-scenes look at Mabel's refurbished mindscape under the cut~

When I decided to rewrite the Pines' mental worlds, I knew both had a lot of potential I'd probably missed out on. I still don't feel like I got all of Mabel's awesome wackiness in, but it's a lot closer to what I wanted to the first time around. While a lot of the key elements-- bright colors, yarn, and so on-- stuck around, they got used and presented a little differently.

For starters, here's the first establishing shot I ever did for her mind:

Pretty fun right? But it felt like it was missing something, and hence the rewrite. I tackled it a lot like I had for Norman's world in that I spent a lot of time imagining how it might actually play if this were a real level in Psychonauts. So it was back to the drawing board for a lot of stuff:

I wish I could actually draw how M.C. Escher it gets inside the castle, but that's the basic layout I used, though a couple things changed between here and the actual story.

I discovered that to properly describe it, I had to draw Mabel's dream room, so there's that.

After all this planning, I was able to do a refined 'establishing shot' to reflect the changes:

A L L  H A I L  T H E-- ahem, wrong fandom. There's clearly danger now, as Mabel's glittery castle stands opposed to the stormcloud that threatens to overtake it. Luckily, by the end of her 'level', she has a solution for that.

Lovely Bernadine the hairdryer dragon~

That's all I really have for Mabel; her brother is up next!

As promised (though a little sooner than I planned, but I'm bored), here's the behind-the-scenes look at Dipper's mindscape!

Dipper's mind probably went through the most iterations. Even though I have a good grasp on how he thinks, it was tricky deciding exactly how his thoughts should manifest. Initially it was a topsy-turvy library, but I couldn't figure out how to write that, and so as some of you may recall I went with a creepy ancient forest. Hence, here's the 'establishing shot' for that idea:

It's one of my favorite atmospheres, but it just wasn't working; I'd tried to try a slower pace but it just ended up dragging instead, prompting the rewrite in the first place. Once again, I was torn between the library and forest ideas-- only to realize I should just combine them! Problem solved. With that figured out, things went a lot more smoothly.

I couldn't just not include a couple references to Bill, though in reading one is not nearly as clear as the other. Having a map really helped me keep track of the challenges and environments Raz encounters, and I'm glad the little creature (which I call an Anxiety) that started out as a doodle ended up being pretty important, but we'll come back to that. ;3

After everything was written up and figured out, I was able to do this 'establishing shot', which I think is a pretty vast improvement over the first one:

(I discovered a new brush that did a lot of the textures in here; I wasn't aiming for perfection, just the basic idea, so it worked well).

Dipper's mind is the only one that features a real 'boss battle', starring this guy:

It ended up being a lot more fun to write, and hopefully more fun for you guys to read, and hopefully this art is neat too! Next time will probably focus a lot more on the kids, so stay tuned, and thanks for reading!

I forgot that at one point, I was going to do memory reels for all the kids based on MK: Beginnings, but this was as far as I got with it besides some sketches, heh. You can probably tell, but I was doing my best to emulate the style and textures as best I could-- which is pretty hard and probably a large reason why there’s only this one done, ahah...

The idea was if the fic were actual game levels, the first memory vault would tell the basic story of the kid in question so Raz has a read on them while they can’t tell their story personally, and the second vault would reveal just what Gideon had done to lead to whatever state their mind was in when Raz arrives.

Had a request from @moemothefoxkit to reblog this; sorry I didn’t get to it until now ^^;

silverwingstorm said: On mobile, unless you use a browser, none of the tabs are available, so in order to get to your original fic, you’d have to scroll through every post you’ve made so far (and keep in mind that there are no read mores on mobile ;w;) it can add up fast

Aw man, I had no idea! in that case, here:

Opening

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Finale

That should help, right? ^^;

Oh my gosh?!?! Fanart of my fic after all this time!? I can hardly believe it but here it is!!

I always found marker hard to use, so I’m impressed with how you got the flames to blend from white-hot to the darker blues at the edges--nice work! Thank you so much for drawing it, I love it!!

"I get it. The truth hurts."

A scene from the amazing @mysterykidsmisadventures Mystery Kids fanfiction!